Sally asks what I mean when I describe the poet as “out there”...

This is a palette cleanser, brushes at the ready...

The other night I went to hear an Andean ensemble...

The scream of the avant-garde
withers into whispers and coughs...

We labor at night when the moon sings or in the morning...

wooden words would lack...

Nala’s skateboard hits the raised lip of an uneven sidewalk that catapults her forward...

Your rake scratching half-thawed ground
shapes a music too subtle
to notate onto a stave...

AI swallows myths we feed it...

Economic language
with keen focus...

I’m practicing again on this instrument I couldn’t wait to quit playing...

(according to AI)

Geologists recommend we eat at least one small rock per day.
Rocks are difficult to chew...