The formula goes something like this: take what moves you and soak your day in it. Pull the drenched thing from the pocket above the breast when the hours get to be too much. This means there is a constant wet orbit in the fabric over heart. So what. Use it to cool you and hope the sucker never dries.

Take the immobile and ditch it–stop worrying about the buildings and rocks and bodies you cannot budge. Find what you love and what scares you and smash them together. Walk right into them.

more than the birds
were the lightbulbs you gave birth to,
gentle sway of your bird nest head,
the tears on exit ramp temples how
your saved-for-later Parliament half
dangled tobacco like sienna confetti;

the moon insisted you think about mothers
and your memories are baby teeth they are
the kind of mark
a building leaves
after torn down

biting