Flying
The feathers would flutter in the wind like and angels.
The wings would lift me off this Hell they call Earth.
...
Restoration Ode
What tends toward orbit and return,
comets and melodies, robins and trash trucks
...
Three young foxes spilling down the culvert.
A red shirt in the closet. Stick jammed
in the undercarriage. Steaming plates
presented by a weeping waiter. Some days
...