September Collage

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SEPTEMBER COLLAGE


A single ladybug dies 

wedged in wicker, 

is spray-painted green. 


Disassemble yourself. 

Free trampoline. 


I fear I have jumped 

to conclusions. If even 

pipe-smoke throws 

a shadow in moon-


light, all of this

means something, right? 


In the dream I find 

the answer on a crumpled 

piece of paper. It's written

in thick-tip Sharpie. 


But here, in the dim half-

light of our waking,

it all bleed together.


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