all trees are oaks all birds are blue in the mountains of a magnet are the mountains of you i'm proud of my genius just like a painter and dumb like a poet i think i can just say it from the throats of our wrists with full sets of teeth vanilla almond teeth from vanilla almond tea spent afternoons measuring time in spoons a southern run for a late longing to drink what's 80 miles in canada or 18 years in the mountains where all trees are oaks and all birds are blue, ach' du i thought everyone was you where forget-me-nots and marigolds and other things that don't get old don't get old between one june and september you're all i remember but i'm a lantern, my head a moon i married a room where i'll at least keep my hands in order and what about the air, lying awake.