Affairs of the heart never monotonic. Thursday status report. Hand resting lightly on the dark thrush. Scraps of paper left folded under the school desk. Towers of maize funneling wind.
Obedience is to language as paper is to plastic.
An arrow through the heart and out the back. Scarlet ribbons on the air. I should have been a lepidopterist. I have a scalpel for cutting across seed pods and slicing down the length of stems. Left a clove of garlic in the sun for a week and when I split it open I could see the new green shoot poking out of it.