sometimes i get muddled between dragons and dinosaurs
forgetting which is imaginary and which actually used to exist.

someone told me that the way i write, erratic and spiky,
rushing to arrive at the next letter,
indicates fast thinking:
but it strikes me as the opposite of quick-witted
that i need to take a moment to remember whether
a fire-breathing mythical beast once roamed the earth,
regardless of how improbable a triceratops might seem.

i complain that no one has explained to robert plant
that he is singing wrong by screeching in that pained and painful fashion.
a stranger concurs, remarking that proper blues singers don’t find it necessary to shout.

the white flag with the red cross heaves and sucks in the wind
on the pole above the town hall.