the cantor’s berrytail

                   t

               u

grows  o          from his              stern

               w				um

	      a

	         r

	           d

	like a starlet	    reaching fame

sheetswiftshift:  power nearoutage	for jetlaggin’

     dishwashing power		       i’d

		not realized the	homeless could be

	unhungry		(maybe just picky?)

			luna is not

			for her/brief		headshake

							no

						           (no 

							    thanks no)

				cantor 

			singing

like mammie’s daddy

			(icecreamfits; teary marshallsbag throwing; age

				8 realization: children as pain)

no

no recanting

			just a stoop

					pick berries from his tail note

	sudden dimness in #1			the stage directed

						    her not to m	o	ve

1 place to live- you

0 place to live- her

all she needs

			               is a point

		ureality guilt

		mussed hair lapping her face

		she shivers & 			you’ve been

laughing about

	religiousfruitsingers

		in your warmly

			homed

			mind.