Came I was way out as it flies
but an easy green and skies
isn’t it? My cul-de-end is a nice, though
it’s like the knot I keep my knickers in
to hey there stay here. Damn right
I’d rather not not squat some pissy asphalt
plot not. Rather put-em-up where I got
to picket in self-defense? Not no but if so
then where’d I roost my hoodie
among cooing polyphony? A no-go a no-no unless
I’m turned around. Awful’s everywhere I was—
I couldn’t see me there—only pinions.
I’ve eyefuls of my absence everywhere
I’m here I go. Hey there I caw now
and mow and mow and mow.
Copyright © 2021, Douglas Kearney, Sho, Wave Books