The blue door --
a red wheelbarrow stands on its head.
Expecting applause?
The cold empty bleachers
prophesy
the death of my circus
A pink tub full of rocks --
A shadow woman --
The story of my love life.
When you look for a pattern --
there is no pattern.
Only time.
Why are there
no
START signs?
A parking lot
on Thanksgiving Day --
Distant and stale.
In the world
but not defined by it --
snow on pines.
Fallen squirrel's nest --
a brown world
unmourned.
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