I’m a Keats bot
so are you

That summer I learned Biblical Hebrew
with Christian women heaving themselves
toward ministry one brick building at a time.

the angels might get so sad
knowing what I do
as I mourn over you

your ear pressed to the asphalt
listening for further instructions

Everyone in the world,
whatever their disposition,
seemed to be crying at once

The Yangtze River in China lost its nerve
and wanted vengeance.

the summer rolls up its black tongue: from inside the machine 

I affirm my devotion to your ingenious application, allowing you to track my whereabouts across all devices.

The part
that flusters some, that flusters no one.

on the chair shining wet from the rain
still hung a black piece of laundry.