for robert vander molen
two swallows in india in love with their nest of this man’s home / so pissed at their shit on the porch
taptaptap
of gathering of building and rebuilding / in a fit he took a hose
sluiced the nest away / they grieved so that when the man heard
taptaptap
at his door found not a guest or a census-taker / but the swallows knocking their heads against the door
and become pulp
