Say scissors or arteries in a teapot

Tea or oak leaves in the teapot

Between the screen and the projector

our hero places a canvas

stencils THIS ISN’T A TIME MACHINE

A day is a time machine ladder-shaped

and strutting the way yellow

can mean three yellows or orange

The child imagines the wreckage that

must pile at Saturday’s feet

Tuesday’s elbow in Monday’s back

a street that ends in diamond sign

Three cars pass with bullet holes

Three cars pass

with bullet hole

decals

A housefly in the wrecking ball’s air current

(this must happen)

touches only air current

Headlines cover train window faces

A sadness without sizes moves through

neighborhoods like three hotdog stands vying

for the perfect corner

A day is a time machine bowl-shaped grinding light

and night is a triangle on the earth’s other side

Our hero was made girl-shaped and fell into

television

He likes to see trees happen

rain on snow

any wheel pushed forward and forward

Guilt shrinks the day to thumb-size

You lumber through the architecture a mirror-full

of face you see less of each day