head caught in a machine

there was once a poet
who got his head caught
in a machine
it was a very bad machine
but better than his brain
flowering ensued
but not the kind that you might think
the internet of things
began to come to life
and suddenly
the refrigerator started to sing
an automated car
sought out a precarious peak
the municipal water spouts
began to leak
people were confused
they went outside
and there they found
strange things
forgotten things--
dandelions and collard greens

destitute woman

that you were a wren
or swallow or bluebird
inhabiting some uninhabited space

that men might make a home for you
fashioned from discarded boards
of some abandoned barn

that you were two or five
of Jesus’ sparrows
alighting on a bough of locust leaves

that wings would be your grace and
lift you from the thorny branch
or save you from the mangling