all the thorny things

the two pairs of paper glasses printed
with red and white stripes and little blue stars
that i discover in the abandoned mouse-nest-ridden drawer
of a desk in the trailer which is soon to be disassembled
and when emory and i put them on,
everything is rainbows
and as he narrates how he sees eight of me
i can’t help but laugh at this eight year old sounding
like he’s on some psychedelics

the light petals veined with purple
of the wild violet flowers that i pluck from near the pond and the front of the main house
before i arrange them on slices of the dutch baby
in the cast iron skillet

the snags that all the thorny thing sleave
in our clothes and on our skin
but am and i don’t care because we’re hunting
for empty freshwater mussel shells
along karma pond’s edge
where my sangha at? darien calls out
in upstairs karma after returning home
From red earth
bet that’s the first time anyone
has ever said that
 he says

putrid is the word i use for the smell
of the contents of the 55gallon grease trap
that trish and baigz drained and transported
down along the back road


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