i’m sorry i missed dinner

dear mouse

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being hit

by a stone

being shot.

put on ice.

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(and being dispossessed

of the

rudiments of

texture

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and you remark i smell horses

by the creek i told you about with

the blue heron

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and so

go on

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she’s motoring away, telling

everything she never thought before, about

her friends her melissas her sadies her tiny dancers

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the room is red as

an electric coil

and

folks seem to

understand

why

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talking has me using

breath again

air escapes

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all this is

frocks and petticoats and smoked meat

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i fight wasps and suicide because they are after me

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i’ve always said

goodnight is such

a silly

sighing

niceness

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sun is

whisp

ring on

coldestreets an

ceaselessly

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o

we

go

put a fire

up

by the tree

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or by the black-eyed susans

this is on the telephone blinking

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I was walking

on the beach

yesterday

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