My I is not A

Seeing a photo I recently snapped
Or maybe something I wrote down or made up

Feels foolhardy
Unless I'm going to eat my creation.

I look to check that it's still good

Looking

While trying to imagine the Garrick, the Voltaire,
1969,1916,
Why do my digital desktop research sources
All tell me to try Grey Goose vodka?
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Instead of why men are not machines
But still would rather be alone with a phone
Than have new words breathed on them
Or strange birds singing in their ears

I might be thinking about the past
When I delete it later
Or the power goes out

Congratulations

Let your bygones be

By God soda pop inflections 

Of Moth at the podiatrist

Goose bombs and broken tools

Remembering the smell of violating

Snakes in the snakeweed

A rattlesnake master

Lemon flower with pepper 

At sunset beet red rhubarb

Blue bonnet of Spanish bells

I could give my life to a rainbow-like you

Who comes at the end of a storm

And says nothing but colors

Because it's enough really

To blow minds and break toes

And I cannot stress enough

But I will

How fortunate are the watered

And the weed

For the dear