willing it,
he draped tinsel across the train tracks
of his childhood




she said: the Tao teaches you in your sleep




when the mathematicians get here, be sure to use the word 'approximately' 
and please don't bother them with knotty questions about prime numbers





she kept her 'waitress' shoes in the hall closet




day moon
briefly in the nucleus
of dew





she filled the holy water bottle from the polluted creek





Rosary and a half-pack of Pall Malls
in the big front pocket
of her knock-around housedress





he's wasting his gifts envying butterflies




it can't be normal to think about a cardinal in a blue spruce tree all day




I got the parking spot
and a half-baked notion of an infinite universe