The neighborhood waxwings are drunk on fermented berries.

The single-room theater was illuminated with / murmurs and movement

This is not loss.

as these beats are wild

Tiger Mum is at yoga with Buffalo Mum.

It was the can opener. Adhered to the ceiling.

A soldier sits with feet dangling astride the cannon barrel.

“I should have told you…”

Weather permits the unrelated to relate.

the dust in my mouth tastes of tombstones

I am the bird woman from the other side

felt a bit sad for / those poor people in Ukraine

I can smell what you fear

what is this thing we’ve invited into our home

Do one exceptional thing, / which was justice

Money runs through my fingers like water.

Daddy turns around. He looks sick.

these clouds are water, not smoke.

We elected it, so we had only ourselves to blame.

“There's got to be better stuff out there.”