I built a pile of twigs
And then I took it down
I built a pile of twigs
And then I took it down

And like a black yellow buggy
I got stuck in the honey

And mama said,
“It’s okay, babe.
This is what we do.
It’s okay babe.
This is what we do.”

I built a pile of twigs
And then I took it down
I built a pile of twigs
And then I took it down

every time the thought changed
his fingers felt the same
but they looked different to us

a little less than misplaced
a little more than unlucky
pumping uncertain terms

when I plug my eyes I see
guls behind my eye
lids

While you were writing your poems
I was digging holes
Deep in backyard dirt
Waiting for the sun to peek
From the other end

You were ready, so
I popped my head out from the hole
You sang with a voice like an orchestra
I was crying, I was spitting up dirt
Somehow, so were you

Yes, I’ll stay there with you
So long as you keep your voice ringing
In perfect harmony and rhythm
Like seven playing trumpets

Each of us floating in storybook-type something
Looking for a new one
To swim in and drink

the first time your child says "fragile", you: