the sun sets too brightly
in the wall of windows
behind first bard
casting her in silhouette
cartoon voices
& gestures flatten
into puppetry
best part:
when she jumps
arms waving overhead
becomes the shadow
of the spout
of a whale
*
Three poets walk into a bar.
Second traveling bard
says to me:
“No, it’s not just here,
it’s everywhere—
no one’s interested in
possibility anymore.
No one hangs out
after the show
to drink & flirt.
Even in New York
it’s the same.
No one’s trying
to make a new world.
They just want
to go home to their
stroganoff.”
*
walking home
to my spicy tofu
noodle leftovers
cheshire crescent
moon dangling
between
printing press
co-op & gallery
whole sphere
lit faintly
like a bonus
full moon
I hadn’t seen her
all month
except through
the lenses
of astronauts
what with the storms
& the waning
I would’ve taken
an even smaller slice
is that scarcity
or stumbling upon
more than what
seemed possible
in the current phase