Empty your head. Begin
looking in all the wrong places.

Forget mass invitations. They arrive
sudden as frost on car windows.

At a party they are the wall flowers.

You see a winter in that lady's hair.

Learn from boys who aim
at fat pigeons on telephone wires:

their secret lies
in patience with the wind.

The gingerbread men don't mind waiting
for their white smiles, buttons, winks.

Steel yourself against attachments.
Wave goodbye

to the best lines
who leave by the earliest train.

Bear in mind the rule in Jenga:
you must build. Keep removing
while you juggle

for balance. Play by the ear
in the shake-and-throttle

talk to ghosts. Listen to their rumble,
look for a theme.

Remember, a poet will climb
all the hills to gather the right herbs.