make me down a pallet on your floor

my brown handkerchief.
and sun turning me pink.

sometimes you leave, just so you can come back,
thinking sometimes you come back
just so you can leave.
that is what i think.


i am sleeping in the field, in the kitchen, in the attic.
and small wood pieces the ones that i like
keeping in my pockets.
saying "dobar dan"
drinking glasses of milk.
taking soil from the molehills it's the best kind
he says, for seedlings.
they're tryin' so hard,
i will tell them it's okay, if you just can't do it,
there'll be more aprils.


laundry lines, and head dreams
of one day being a shepherdess.

sayin' good morning, each morning
to the horse with white eyelashes.