Sonnet 1

Clear s/talked Bic fits my hand perfectly 

happy am I wearing mirror shades that you might

see yourself twice and differently as the quiver

trees rustle apart from impending rain silken 

as imagined I don't know what this is this means this

this this ingredient (this) increment where oh

where is my pointer that you might sister me as I

endow you back in sisterhood whatever the voluptuous 

say-so living in my mind half distant from 

the chin the footfalls the embedded divinity 

I hear in the form of a metronome I'm gifted

at finding the space between tocks how do I feel

at this hour of my depth of mountainous handsome 

land all citified the way my body holds court.