a lake will never belong to me.
The pigeons swelling; hello
this was washed along with the jeans, but here. Have a mint
lean gatherers of beans, milkers
When you said “pulling my leg” what body
of water was I being led to
to believe in?
switch it off, as these journalists tend to ruin
finding the webs of others useful, shapely
pigeons alighting or not
informed by shrapnel wheeling on gurneys
your people, forever. But not your museums
Leaving is not coming to terms.