I’m sorting out the ash from the sand in the incense jar with a minuscule metal rake
Do crows intimidate the hawk?
Is BITCH SEEKS BRAT still in the classifieds?
I’m picking up from where I left off
You got a fucking problem with that?
I’m trying to figure out what made my real or metaphorical heart stop
The ancient harp was found deep in the kudzu patch where the quibbling wizards buried it
When I heard it sing again I cried
I hadn’t cried since my cat Bobo died
I certainly don’t cry about you and me
Only what’s symbolic
Occasionally these concerns are rendered moot by an unmitigated moment of pure joy