Charles Simic is a sentence.
Marie Kondo is a verb. Nancy Pagh is
a phoneme, one of 44 ways of indicating
the degree of incarnadine flushing
the maple today at 12:08 Pacific Time.
Nancy Pagh suggests building something
out of water then drinking it.
Putting cold fingers in the mouth
to warm them. Tasting bacon
cooked long ago in the current
seasoning of a cast-iron pan. Nancy Pagh
rows to the end of a long lake,
climbs out on the sand to rest, indicating
the voice of a thrush in dark forest
directly behind you. Nancy Pagh
feels the sweat on your neck. Phonemic
awareness allows you to notice squared
grains of sand between your toes
as you Marie Kondo this blue sweep of lake:
keeping it, keeping the joy that it sparks,
keeping as well the line of horizon
as buttered and bright as
Charlie Simic, clarified.