and hue
to have unheld a scale —
silver dishes little mirrors on their chains —
they go that way, This
and hoist
It’s not like looking into a pool,
to let your intelligence run away with you
Come back quarter size, apricot moon
A changeling is a child who
appeared under cover
of the ordinary, in exchange
The morning came
I have such pretty handwriting
no one said but I myself thought it
to myself so I matted it
like the grasses or a canvas or some
uncombed hair. It became a mess
which was the research of where things go.
A child could figure it out
if there is such a thing as “out”
in the sense of being figured
in
the thinking was like Origami,
everyone folded out of birds, into specific
kinds of birds
I call you
hickory
category
dot