I watch a pigeon toed crow watch the sky somewhere in the power-line horizon

while my bad eye simultaneously skims the tops of skinned heads 

through my national geographic magazine made from plastic plants

someone discovered in a dark dublin warehouse

In silver symphonies somewhere in the distance 

Darfur children blow kisses late at night to their mothers in hostage

much like I used to do at Christmas.

There's a two headed vagabond dog waiting for you to take him home

in a pet shop in mexico

Don't name him

It just makes it harder when he leaves you after dinner.

In a room built for Jesus
There's a bed in it already (you provide the sheets)
There's a hot plate
a mini frige
an oval mirror hanging reflecting white
and of course time has autographed a pictureof Jesus
He's surrounded by his Angels blowing their gifts into the sky with brass inbetween.
In a room built for Jesus there's a blue leather chair
perfect for sitting and thinking,
"Is that picture crooked?"