And so:
the wind-up toy runs down,
the game ended.
I stand calm and solid while
my whirs and wogs rust
Careful quick.

Take it back, I am so tired
I can’t stand the extra-curricular
quartets, the strings are snapping and
The reeds are wrong.
If you don’t know what I mean, go listen.

Stand in the center of the green,
breath the pine, the pool,
The picnic for the senses.
Watch the wind play practical jokes
on leaves,
No one’s laughing;
it’s a darker humor.

The carpenter’s lost his hammer
in the lake by the mountain.
There’s wool in that drink,
train your sheep!

While I go over here to collect my
lanterns, my water nights,
my tigers,
Sprinkling on the ash grove.

The seal breaks the fishing net to
let the fish go free.
To go home to their wives with fishy lips
and tomatoes in the drawing room.

At our secret meetings,
We wear our nametags backwards.
We stand on our heads, we only rhyme.
Our middle names are Shakespeare,
Life makes sense that way.