string seventeen

sometimes I go
behind buildings
to breathe

*

I watch
dumpster Buddha
warm the snow

*

mostly it’s steam
from things
we love

*

I’m a carp
through several
fish-scaled lives

*

I wake up
next to a poem
who no longer loves me

*

I feed seagulls
get arrested for it

things are looking up

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string fourteen

my name
goes behind
your name

*

see     this string’s
an umbilicus
between names

*

here      a conch we found
swimming to a sandbar
one evening,         1971

*

the rosy blush
to its helix
never fades

*

the words
change their shapes
now

*

in your mouth
“blue”
is difficult

*

mouth     moss
other     mother
nature

*

I find you
you find me
the conch

*

when I sleep,   you sleep
under a sandbar
swimming away