you make your own inspiration
the thoughts are generally
the same intonation unvaried
pits
of a rhythm rut
the windows are the same too

this one has sticker residue
and the field behind the house
an apple tree's pink lace
the other paints a white stained floor
above the neighbors
preparing for church

today is the first day. Again
my moss skin
reaches greenly
to distant photos god takes
as he cleaves the world into two halves

one fake he makes shinny crow's feathers
tin roofs
windows like opalescent flowers
scattered on river banks
on ponds and lakes

all this
'''''''''and still
'''''''''''''''''''the sea

I see
a yellow house