WELL I CANT READ ITS MIND

a hair on the bed
just one inch away
from my morning eye

is curled into a question mark
shining silver in the slant of the sun

its tagged itself

on the end of my dreams

asking maybe What Now ?
or suggesting . . . 

. . . well i cant read it mind

~

it casts a shadow
like a dark river
that
winds

down 

the

cotton canyon cliffs

& there i launch a small boat

& escape

from interrogation