OR THEY ARE ANTS
do not send what is rare
do not send what is wild
is wild if wild to it
the mind an archipelago
the mind a Wandering Jew
do not send a detailed map
do not send the time it takes
to send to them
do not send a correct return
of Address, especially the address of
where the pond leapt and grew into a lake
do not pluck a fish from
that lake and send it
it will be too young
its heart an accordion
do not send an endangered specie
do not send a low-flying bird—it is too curious
do not send what was illuminated from the only
flash of lightning in this storm
do not send red metal or black rifles
the mind wet the earth
the mind the guilty sky
do not send the smear that blocks natural light
although you are allergic
do not send the cure you were sent
do not send the hand
that held yours
do not send a figure drawing
the Virgin Mary posed for
do not send what you thought
you saw
do not send what the thing
you thought you saw was holding
do not scrape your feet and send minerals
do not send tools you used to escape
do not send the apology with the insult
don’t send what you choked on
do not send the deep end of your bed
after the Great
Barrier reef an inevitable drop
do not send what treasure
sinks into the sand
and is immediately covered up
do not send anything you’ve dug up
which belongs to someone
else who has lost it
do not send a found instrument
do not send the standing ovation
you received from having to
play the instrument you found
do not send rewards
do not send your thirst
do not send natural occurring springs
do not send anything with an
unknown valve
do not send the noises
only you hear at night
and cause you to be still between
your own two arms
do not send your only arm
do not send your amputations
the last poem you fought
yourself for
do not send writing protected by glass
a hundred years have gone by
where you’ve left no fingerprints
do not send the one
point of interest on your horizon
do not send the point on the horizon
where you expect
something to appear
do not send your waiting
do not give it
a handsome title
do not give what they would rather wait
until you die to take
hold tight to the vine that requires you cut it
+++
RED
When I left no longer
had I red. I was fine, getting into
a car I sat next to the window nothing happened
I walked without shoes on
the sun was out and I went about
my business I was fine
then I come back here and the next day
it happens to red
I try hard not to cry but in my trying
I sit and try to cry so I will have to try not to cry
I can’t try and not cry unless I am going to cry
now it is just like it used to be
by this time red is gone
it only came back once
I came back if I went
away again it would too then it would not
return as long as I vowed
not to return. How
does one stay away forever?
the year offers me
without burn everything wasn’t important
his books killing me paper has absorbed
I grow afraid and hate myself not touching
what makes our life the first
leaves pressed against strawberry
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