The boy's glasses were very very thick.
He was thinking of this life and the next and the next.
The yellow city bus drove by the blue-by-morning river
but the boy did not see the bus from this perspective.
Two blackbirds have more space than they can handle.
No one knows time this way the way the blackbirds do.
No one knows no one: a blade of grass
is the blade in the grass. The boy stands in his ghost.
One of the blackbirds is now thick with the river.
Some of the branches make love like an awkward couple.
Or like a couple juxtaposed against the window, which
isn't unusual, but the window is juxtaposed against
and the branches are making more sounds than usual.
Things become is.
We don't have to make a sentence if we don't want to.