A string of tinsel killed my cat.
My grandma was to blame.

And it
should come as
no great surprise
Isaac Newton said,
“I find I now
prefer to sit beneath.”
pear trees.

a well trained baboon
could kick our ass at most sports

what the fuck even
is a tree
just this big wood
rod all branching

I’ve blown into the bakery, a witch
for fine pastry—buns, biscuits and better—
warm cookies crisp. My stare turns sweets unsavory. My broom
sours sables, toughens muffins.