my hands like to fall across faces fast
and wave away meanness
and dirty smudges
that the neighborhood leaves
my hand faces my burnt head sometimes
and bird wings its quantum judgement day
all over my little blind spots.

Shake Away
It’s ok if there are rips in the curtain
and that if when the cat stares
you are never the same thing
that he thinks he sees.
It’s ok when ears ring red
with bad memories of burns
of sad screaming songs
all lit on fire.
There’s someone - somewhere -
who will close their eyes
and open your windows,
and cats that rip curtains
can be swayed away
with a quick shake of the food box
so shake away.


leaving tiny leaves alone
like passing by a hanging doll
and you are looking at me
like I am the scarecrow
of your long lost picnic game
deep hiding in november’s screamy wind
we curry to a wet grass place
where the dark scary night
is left to call
and i swear if i am still alive
I have never been here
before