All trees are oaks
all birds are blue
in the mountains of a magnet
are the mountains of you
i'm proud of my genius just like a painter
and dumb like a poet i think
i can just say it from the throats of our wrists
with full sets of teeth
vanilla almond teeth
from vanilla almond tea spent afternoons measuring time in spoons
a southern run for a late longing to drink
what's 80 miles in canada or 18 years in the mountains
where all trees are oaks and all birds are blue, ach' du
i thought everyone was you
where forget-me-nots and marigolds and other things
that don't get old
don't get old between one june and september
you're all i remember
but i'm a lantern, my head a moon
i married a room where i'll at least keep my hands in order
and what about the air, lying awake.