The sun would not have you looking at stars.
Are your half lives half-remembered or half-forgotten?
You weren’t lost at sea but you were at sea.
The music may be there today, curled in its little box.

He only grows louder, comforted.
I stopped to look at the beetle. The beetle stopped, hoping to be unseen.
Perhaps it’s cheaper now.
I smile, I wave, you shake your head and, smiling, turn away.

An octopus changes its colors and its textures.
Under a bushel termites write long and complicated explanations.
I missed the art in the basement. That was tonight.
List for me the flavored ices of the moon.