Sunday, January 12, 2014


Every day 
a poem 
a path 
the page.
Often just 
a hen or a crow--
sometimes a whole flock 
of hens, 
a whole murder 
of crows and
now and then
when a comet 
sprays the night,
or Mars
and Venus 
cross in fuzzy 
dislocating light, 
a whole charm 
of hummingbirds 
dip down 
to agitate

all this 
empty space.