field brown is dingy
grass is achingly green…
Poetry
sometimes you write a poem
on a tissue…
I am the bridge suspended…
or did I get so many goose bumps…
2 tastes like sun-warmed
garden peas scooped directly from pod…
Here, let me give you
a butterfly net…
the eyebrows and the eyelashes
are out of order,
the moon is pock-marked,
I’m standing on a tilting plane…
sky’s set of angel wings –
are they clouds that look like ribs…
one plus one is blood
and one minus one is…
it’s so loud, I can’t hear everything
at once, the yellow is thrumming, insisting…
Daily Poets 