in

People are dangerous in
The kingdom of laughter like doorbells that
Don’t ring. Their god is viciously hiding.
A pale moon shouts at blackbirds, at labradoodles,
Books, stones, brooks.

 

no waste

Words that belong to the Sun and Moon
don’t constitute a dictionary, deny counting.
Crows look at the heavenly bodies with
the naked eyes and ask me about my favorite
name for a blowfly or underground river.
There is no waste in the process
of the final contamination. Glass-blowers drive garbage trucks
through afflicted pastures in the soul of a cow.

{from the comments on COMMENTS TO “SHE”: FROM THE BLOG OF EATMOREWORDS}