who is
your next of kin
she asks
I answer
when I die
notify
the sycamore
outside my window
who is
your next of kin
she asks
I answer
when I die
notify
the sycamore
outside my window
out of nowhere
I found myself
missing
the self
I thought I
earned
only to find one
hiding in me
given
simply
freely
given
the sky is green
the corn is blue
the wind plays
mischief
in between
“Anyone who sees and paints
a sky green
and pastures blue
ought to be sterilized.”
Hitler
six dice
six brothers
a round
table
each throw
a play
of hope
a chance
to be
more
than
each
could
be
alone
are
we
the orange
knows
so does
the onion
as do I
when
silent
wing
wise
feather
free
wind
true
this river flows north
a shepherd of sorts
it is
winter
I follow
its silence
to the end
of this frozen world
try on
here
wear
now
as no
other
can
enough
room
to
be
no
more
no
less
than
myself
all right!!!
uppity tail
on the run
to
nowhere
but
being
chipmonk