I stretch into tree pose,
reach for the short light

A is going around telling
our friends I’m falling in love.

My word for the year is savor—
as in this ripe Anjou pear,

views through balistraria arrow loop loopholes arrowslit the way ruins fall

Especially our own: so I’ll start with a bonfire
sometime before I met you, winter solstice

Famous people die in threes.
Bacon grease goes in a coffee can under the sink.

After a lavender scented bath
I pick up a new purple colored panty

to live my whole life
in the warm sun

 Everyone here goes to the Wawa, she says. She’s a seventh-generation Texan.

Rounding the corner I saw them, down the block 
strangers in dark overcoats and thick winter hats

Did you know lions can tiptoe like ballerinas?
Did you know if you say “monsters” to little kids they will cry?

I (or any number of people)(customers)
received a product labeled with

Four years later—February remains stunted
a mix of dark mud and chocolate. I have found

the angry ball of flesh
jumping for hours

Am I afraid of the dark?

What if we all spoke tree,
a love language across the planet?

Still good for splitting
bolts into quarters; tong lift to 

Constant anachronism.

I meet my neighbor,
walking his little white dog.

Mind wants to say yes
but wait 

There’s no sunrise today.
Yesterday’s clouds haven’t moved.