I never felt like this
for any bird but you.
Wingling, all flutters, yes,
but not this stubborn tenderness.
when you look back,
a shell in me
rocks and cracks.
not really little, not really bird,
you don’t have to be anything for me.
How can I know you?
I want to love you accurately.
Happy Monday, neighbour!
This is a Ragnarok alarm clock:
steel rod clatter and steel saw roar,
gas engine chatter, the windy patter
of sheets of rain on the storm-wet form,
showers of sparks, the radio blasting
completely unintelligible crap,
and the rap of nailguns dropping a beat.
Only it’s not the end of the world –
it’s just the beginning.
It’s 7 am. This is not a bad dream.