You seed yourself like grasses in a field but also between the ochre stones of an ancient street. You bring on darkness and sunrise.
When I was a kid during the War there were telephone wires, and on those telephone wires the birds would sit and twitter and
I don’t remember who owned the shabby cabin, or how we knew it squatted unoccupied across the state line, an hour’s drive with
I kept telling my teacher that I don’t know this minuet. Only my hands know it, only my fingers and how they stretch the