The beast paused over his desk

Turning the wheel

Slapped again

Twelve cold loves

After the moon’s spirit broke

Jazzed by the bouquets

Shouldered or butted hard

In the woods. A woodsman

Leaving behind his sister’s grave. Leaving from

A stone cross. A wide bellied ghost.

Cut open

Seven nuns at the train station

At least the east

In Parliament his aunt crosses the floor

Calling out the names hurled

Asleep at the dinner table.

The gorgon ate

Remembered a fountain

Two cookies battled over

The fire alarm. The spume of gassy

No rocks or monsters no demons

Taking tickets

Church mice in the town hall

Christ falling off the wagon too

You are a porpoise.

Sisters. I love like my aunt

Dollars and asparagus

Sure are full. Focusing