If titmouse wags her song at me again like a scolding finger—you-loco—
I aim to pop her,
then lie down among the cows and rusting tractors along the creekside,
while the bull soliloquizes like widower Macbeth.
For the m [...]
I stand at the kitchen counter sharing cookie crumbs with an ant— one for me, one for you, no, please sir, have two. Listen— an angel overhead is brushing her lap after lunch— wind licks the trees like a rough cat bathing her kittens, dirt stat [...]