Period

The night is crisp

if you listen.


The leaves finished

with competition

on the branch


drop,

one by one


into the water


to see what buoyancy is.

Little Statuettes of the Night

The shadow of a paper airplane

      at 2 a.m.

         its lost pilot

  

  I am so freaking tired

     of street minstrels

           at 3 a.m.

  The cats and the deer

      and the moon

         stare at each other

             round 4 a.m.

      Comes traipsing

          toward the first 

                  cold bus

                at 5 a.m.

          a diva

              telemarketer

       

        sad as a rain divinity