Like a ballad altered from county to county
til no crime was original
purple spuds on Yukon Gold potatoes
shoveling Alaska out from under the boredom
mentally, as the bisque boiled, snappily
news that I was swept out to sea
for dropping my eyes from the horizon to your letter
(never turn your back on the ocean)

Well I must've lived to tell about it
lost the letter and the soup but got a new suit
even the stem of my wine glass fills with wine
with a ball in my hand to knock the clock off the wall
while shooting for the net or hoop or hole
I was told to go
walk on wild ornaments for something new to do

The 3% of an iceberg of nakedness
his head erupted from the covers
Like a dream's needle inserted in the fingertip
nothing was made up
and it was just the tilt of his head
made me go transparent
chilis, tomatillos, frisson!

Now, fat squirrel, you are not as fat as my cat
You can't be both seen, unseen, and safe
Branches lay blank on plank for you
Your thanks may be too soon
daring to throw a ball at a door from this distance
just to see at last the pretty face that opens it