much like photographers, poets capture the world through different lenses, hole up in a dark room and carefully develop the image on paper when I put the hardware down for a day or two, I worry that I might become addicted to simply living and stop imprisoning its moments, then remember the popularity of zoos that imprison rare and exotic animals for study, that thrill children and educate the world Would poetry and I be happier with a different relationship - crossing

today should be the last day in the 70’s for quite awhile those two crows are so close to finding the roadrunner’s nest as she dives at them with her beak that woman in anti-disease wear, covered head-to-toe and a mask, could miss the oncoming car while crossing the road oh, and the guy I saw reading today as he’s walking – the bloody knee and the sprawled book I picture so clearly in my mind or none of those things will happen you and I should know by now to never be

the lovey dovey kissy cuddly squeezy sexy are always how it starts before a contract is slipped beneath her corsage and inside his tuxedo pocket – a bullet list of who will do what who cooks, who cleans, pays bills, handles repairs, car upkeep, takes out the garbage, washes and folds, shops and most importantly who will be the flexible one, handle the unexpected extras later, much later, nature will have a lot to say about those lists, one getting longer, the other sh