Front Porch
i could not find muscle in your milk
so i starved until i found out that
bread was just as good.
i could not hide a moth in a whisper,
so i learned to speak loudly and throw
things across the livingroom.
i could not wait for tomorrow so
i filled my pockets with yesterdays
and grew gray daiseys in my front yard.
gray from birth they say, so very, very
wrinkled and gray.
but you should see them at night
how they glissen in the grass.
when all the nocturnal threads have been
counted the moths come out and gather
round my front porch.
flying closer and closer to that celestrial flame.
illuminated by a seventy five wattt bulb fastened
crookedly just above my door.
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