The Chaotic Misdemeanors of Bluejay One

A green tea bag is baking cold out on my porch 

A piece of gray rock from the quarry wanted to be torched 

Whipped cream pecks your cheeks with specks and flecks of blue 

Your mother called; she said don’t worry about you 

The chickens in the yard scratch and scream and doubt 

Wrought wind twists and spins and grasps and pulls and gives up with a shout 

A moment’s notice of a day brought coffee to your door 

Beaten rays of sun shine down more golden than before 

I wove a web of broken bones and islands cast astray 

A dying town gave up its crown to send lost words my way 

A strand of birch bark wished for dewdrops, not fire but for rain 

The urgent embrace of mossy white lace makes it all the same 

A strand of unrelated texts was sent to me by him at gym one noon 

Your eyebrows have overgrown like a peacebird for a boon 

A beach ball bounced across the ground and out to sea at last 

A bud of colt’s foot sprang up too late; the moment had passed 

So be the trees, the honey bees, the aging cheese, the moon 

The thickets and the thrushes have got to be somewhere soon.