Watching little Henry, six, scoop up blueberries
and shovel them into his mouth, possessed.
I’m so glad I brought blueberries—wish my kids

You never understood me until you watched me wash the inside of the well, with clean well water and invisible soap that dissolves the dirt and then clumps up and floats on the surface, suddenly iridescent. 

Animals aren’t afraid the way we are. They don’t imagine danger. If danger comes, an animal becomes more alive, using its stored-up more-animal-self reserves. If the danger is fatal, it becomes the most alive it’s ever been, using up its entire being in those last moments. 

May you sleep the most famous sleep: the night kind, one-third-of-your-whole-life-like, and if you panic in the peace, you are not dying. Breathing but not doing is not dying. 

The economical ikebana
of the lesser octopus
is disarming,

The round white knob
on the dresser drawer—

Feelings seem like made-up things, 
though I know they’re not.   
I don’t understand why they lead me

In a light chocolatine room 
with blackout windows, 
a loud clock drowns in soft dawn’s

It's a wave, isn't it? Not a particle,
A fresh, cool wave so why am I flushed
and not washed?
Why dirtier than before?