feathers

On our way to the lake we
we watched a little squirrel eating a cone
squirrel eating a cone on a lower branch. After
having eaten away all the seeds it looked at us, discarded the empty cone
and climbed up the tree. We went further.

Thousands of people that kicked the bucket in elevators
had gathered on the shores. They were alive again. Some
were sitting in the spruces around the lake, and no one
could recollect its name, or his or her, for that matter.
Some spruces grew in the water, squirrels and birds
were frolicking under the surface. The birds
were trying to build a fire out of the feathers.

obsolete

Fields are poisoned by late snow
Like trumpets by angelic saliva.
An inch, or maybe two, plus the moon,
Seat belts and socks eaten away by raccoons and coyotes.
You have no idea how many hangovers
A goose can see through before the eggs start to crack.
Changelings never check the quality of their toothbrushes,
Don’t ask about the keys to the air.
Their faraway parents leave the rest of the wine to mice
And go to bed. Low time to look for the salt of the sky
For the wickedly obsolete.