Wormholes

I was underwater, weightless, inside a cave with bubbles

rising and disappearing into the sky. I had fins, a mouth—

gills, and hips stiff as wood. The cave walls were clear as

water but hard as rock. On my side: ferns, gravel, an

elephant with curly tusks, and sounds—sounds I know

now to be footsteps, voices. Laughter. Food snowed in

from the sky. I slept and ate more and more. The last

things I saw: a monster behind the wall and a giraffe

licking the elephant’s back as a giant cobweb came down

and lifted me into blinding light.

walking the dog

I let each fire hydrant

tell me a dream

Department of the Interior

suits and dresses

I hang out with

the linen

Desire isn’t key. Sense is. We sense, make sense, and

therefore we survive.

Warm eggs

in a tree

white omelet

It makes sense to be sensible. The way your heart beats

faster in the presence of beauty is dangerous.

thrush and sequoias

on the subway

everyone’s a sardine