well actually I pick
curios off the surface
of consciousness
while he dips
for bugs through
the pond’s glass
a poet and a flycatcher
both in daily need
of nourishment
one desperate to fly higher
than he has before
I love the stories a good fire tells the animated exaggerated far-fetched spoken with wide tongues of flame pops and snaps for side effects and some smoky dialog thrown into the face the eyes turn
I paint the bitter coating over my keratin carefully on the vulnerable spots in sunlight the tips of my fingers like the barrels of ten polished guns thin protection I realize against an enemy that
with virtues beyond words and forgiveness guaranteed more intimate than breath unfailingly loving and loyal How do you spell your best friend’s name? G O D or D O G