Titles of poems I’d like to write

Inscrutable nests of hair 
in the morning

Ten thousand tears 
and a stale bun

Let's tell each other 
of mystery

When a wave takes back 
the land we never owned

When I remember the story of warriors 
springing up out of a field of corn

When the body doesn't know it is a weapon
only that it is soft

The camera doesn't see inside 
the bolt of lightning

Some things occur with no apparent pattern

I'd rather think of apocrypha as works
of unknown rather than doubtful origin

Who has written as many notebooks
as sunlight?

A large waterfall, a cascade

The glistening lens of the eye 
becoming opaque

In a murmuration, all birds 
except the first fly in the upwash 
from one of the wingtip vortices ahead