Seagull as Number

on the coldest day a big blow

a january of frozen despair

tossing ice and slush 

what else

not much

except a seagull incredible

rising and falling riding the waves

a cosine lines the coast

and retreats broken in sines

 

 

Seagull as Hunger

Would You think otherwise?

A fish? What won't you finish?

On the ground? Is it mine?

Yet I won't bide time, I find.

A sandwich your hands clutch.

I see, I want, what You want, just as much.

And I grasp, You cannot match;

My greedy and wheeling touch.

the seagull as thought

at least two eyes on either side

find ways and means 

forming a committee

out of one solitary

sentence struck

the seagull as time

careening in lines clean

all across the clear 

sky and a blur of high

clouds into white feather

edges of grey and nothing

the seagull as an american

the seagull is pertinent

the seagull has a status symbol

the seagull makes wake

 

in certain circles

everyone says 

 

the seagull the seagull the seagull

 

that seagull is today 

a role model

a representation 

an idealization

tomorrow also possible

for them for you and me to see

only one of us can be

who is left last?

inspired : expired?

the poets

believed

the people

bereaved

 

all that we have is all they want

lobsters and hotdogs

all that they have is all we want

courage and freedom

 

on seagulls

the seagulls lull up there

turning their backs on us

in loops through inside out

 

the seagull is like this and that

maybe

the seagull likes this and that

 

the seagull equivocates

the seagull emminates

the seagull is up to date

the seagull says see you late

lopi

see them flames lick

the glass heavy thick

corners opaqued a bit

eyes dry and transfixed

first day

purple crops the crocus stops

me from inside now outside

from stepping further on

count one amongst the yellow sum

one part earth and one part sun

THAT is a good question

oh why? 

I don't know. .

Maybe its because?

No. . . ..

Is it .?

welllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

isnt it?

 

What isn't it ?

 

Idunno

s'march

 a little dose of march

to start

to balk at

to bray at the moon who

hovers over the snow shovel

objects impossible

lets let these be here

the cheerios fell there

fingers aiming and missing

dropping from a fist rolling