art and the afternoon in terms of "do yes"

it can't really be that hard,
it can't really hurt to snap off white leaves

without getting deadness everywhere

and how easy to twist the stalk slowly
hear it break and sigh

hide the process

when pruning the deadened areas 

so the arrogant & full & sorry
won't have to eat you all up

in the kitchen they reach toward a window
they REACH for it
closer to the sun burning a billion
ten billion
whatever we wish for
a million billion of heat

hot to death

there is a book in the crack between kitchens
and the sun makes the pages grow so much
that they become sails and poke holes in the roof
sails that make the whole house lift
book sails that send us skimming over omaha
with dead leaves blown back
see the leaves and how they twist down?
it suddenly seems like a flying house
with a train of dead leaves is the most
perfect compartment we'll ever have
to live in