Rock in the palm of my hand

The voice of the pounding
surf against the sand

What is heard is the inside

of what we understand

swirls in the palm of my hand

I am a little birdie
perched on a shelf
sleeping
keeping
one eye open to the
cat that wants to put me in
himself

Spring leaves

green edges of
moss
rocks of the
grotto
tucked in
cove by the sea
beckoning
the hot sun of summer
fade the green

to brown tans
of swimmers
in the sea

Remember the poem that I wrote
you
The one about the half naked man
barbequing in the yard
Well he’s back with a half dead alive chicken
in a shopping cart

so when the dog came and snarffed the
chicken with legs and feathers flying about
(the man was surprised that it happened)

making this stuff would require alot more
imagination than is worth the effort
so you will just have to believe that

this really did happen

it’s because that we love you
that we bop you in the nose
It’s because that we love you
that we step on your toes
It’s because that we love you
that we bite you on the butt

We just want to to get close to you
and find out whassup.