He leaves his shoes on the doorstep. Size twelve and a half, wearing through the toes and curling with wrinkles of use. He stopped working at the orchard in November, but red Oklahoma mud still caulks the crevices and holes, stains the laces.

Sunbeam, slices of wet light

The coral reef filled with dreams

glossy fish murmur-

swirling, swishing, swimming

envy of the rainbow

crimson, sapphire, persimmon, lime

Colors never seen by human eyes before

Our world is a sea

From the oceans to the shore

Not of water

But of colors, textures, sounds, and war.

You look around to see the green waves of grass. And hold the

Smoothness of your pen as you sit at your desk; you hear the

There once was a girl from Kentucky,

she always won at games

but, all the same she had a pet gerbil

named “Unlucky.”