Untitled (Day 2,631)

Subversive gardening, I am
an urban vine unwilling
to be tethered to one person’s possession.
I will not become

part of anyone’s landscape
of ownership dispute. I will

grow as my environment allows. I will
become a grubby urban palimpsest
to be layered upon by a future you and me.

Note: John Ashbery refers to grubby urban palimpsests in his book Reported Sightings: Art Chronicles, 1957-1987, ed. David Bergman (Knopf, 1989).

Franconia Sculpture Park

Reclaim a shed, hitch it
by cables to the sky, spin it
around to face that northern
horizon as it becomes

enlarged by civil twilight. Use
earth to honor the earth—a dirt
laden jigsaw puzzle piece suspended

above its perfectly dug
grave speaks in monosyllables.
The greater swing risks breaking

with each arc, a bracing
hazard always worth it in the end.

Camera Invisible (Day 2,626)

If she were shooting
photos day
by day, she would look 

for you in two-way skyway
motion, would need to
actually see you, then find 

a way to take your image
without being exposed. 

Impossible. You’re nowhere 

near here. Not yet. Not ever
going to take cover 

on this second floor winter
salvation. No, she has it
too easy— 

this corner table, this pen,
that imagination, the taking
a network of secret lines.