the hawk's head-shifts are precise and follow in rapid succession... and then cease it lifts one feather at a time as if sniffing its pits it shifts from talon to talon, and then once more it seems to be settling in, getting comfortable for a long stakeout... and then it's gone, diving off the ledge, disappearing into the city valley
mid-monsoon. clouds in the fore race, against a gray bank
footprints in the sand
diverge, and i wonder
if there’s a story
There once was a monogamous Geometer who could angle in inches or kilometers. "I do love triangles, except love triangles," At orgies he was a nervous vomiter.
light sweeps slowly
across the cave floor;
can bats tell?
bamboo, young & supple,
looms over knurly and
stunted hardwoods
noisy parakeets loop above the neighborhood: just flockin' around
winter clouds hang thick and low, but -yet- the sun burns through
i’ve seen nettles,
& i’ve felt nettles —
better the former
Tiger Riding for Beginners 