from THE BACK ROOM POEMS
​
In this tree, looking for symptoms
that are still single
but are now ready to settle down
and meet their affliction,
I tried the last of my gunpowder,
spit it out,
made motions that summer was indeed
tomorrow, fell from this tree
into another tree, and thanked both of my hands,
one at a time.
I'm ready to change the world.
Wallop
©2015 Magic Helicopter Press
