Moving Galleries

you told me
you loved it when the trees changed their minds
and covered the ground
with a million veined post-it notes ...

sun after rain
a fox dares me to cross
her path

We have velvet theories
about boys becoming men,
the mysteries of plumbing ... 

I am a chick
You don’t call it lit
But I read it.
I am the protagonist
The girl who loses part of herself ...

grey dawn
thin old moon
alone and radiant

little girl sweeps herself
across the park
a pretty burn
of yellow cloth ...

Leonardo da Vinci wrote a list
of things he wanted to know:
the cause of tickling
the tongue of the woodpecker ...

The wind rhymes with the sound of their pants

brushing against their legs. The music must shift

to a higher register, whenever the diesel trains roar. ...