a few day's rain

and the grass

and trees

pulse with green;

i'd imagine the

kaw

is beating fiercely,

but i haven't

whispered down

those banks in

awhile.

all the cheapened

similes

make me want

to fall in love

with the flow

in moving baptism

float, and end

up in lawrence,

like last summer

upstream,

i wrote a poem

about the

laundromat: and

how i wish i

left my plastic

bags on the side

walk, barefoot

returning home:

wet clothes weigh like

alive and green don't.

project:

to throw forward

from little thoughts

(click) by hopeful

incandescence

in dimness of the basement

onto an old sheet

(click)

we also used for

dreamful tents

and cloaks.

the sheet is

only beautiful

unfolded, becoming

when (soft)

taking shape from

your shoulders.

memory. the

photograph-flat

colors beckon taste

beckons want

reach for have

(if.)

at 3:53 a.m., my eyes

checked for

possibility

and wore out

kite strings

on a cloudy day

subtractive art:

absence freed

me from the

marble.

some

postmoderncollectiveconsciousness

offered me a very

fittinglyunarchetypalgnawing

w h i s p e r

at

truth/columns/being

but,

i've got

(inkrealenough

tobleedthrough

fourlayersofnapkin

toyieldto

waterandtea

puddledonthetable

tofoldupforlater

andfindinmypocket)

facts

right here.

a tease:

like when march

knew snow, and

cold married

blooms, who moved

to ground for the

rest of her life

and sky was

lonelier for

barely having

met her.

sunlight is real,

confirmed by

elms

' strong reach.)

your face caught

brightness with

ease

(al's lense grasped

our milli[ ]

seconds for a

semi-gloss

magazine)

which i hold

(we aren't dark-

room dreams)

today

(like taped in

my notebook)

emulsified

in me.

bird at night

fuselage

slipping through

black sky,

silver feathered-

(in the sun,

i was with you

city street

robin in the

elm tree)

so colored-

last dusk

more than mile

night and day

separates, so

where is

weighty,

proximity

so bright.