ways i keep from forgetting

it has only been a month! maybe two.
for my grandfather it has been decades.
my baby is not a book
but it smelled like one from a cluttered place without ventilation
and it curled like one in flames.
edges going black.
like that.
o baby.

I make myself a dunce cap.
put a string around my neck
weighed down with a slice of dead tree.

I don’t want to live like this.
raided by suburban mammals.

I want to be honest.
so I want to tie to you a bedpost and sing.

like a piece of minced meat in the middle of a room
my life in history is a desk.
who knows how the bodies skewered with bamboo glanced
     lightly on steps.
right?
and the thick fish industry hooks.
what can be done
to a tongue.
huge recipe books.

I don’t think about it. I like life.
Sometimes I am ashamed.

I just hum.
if you come here I will hum on your hum.
it will be a mute hum
my hummingbird.