I have no complaints. The sockeye fish hurries up river, but human hearts rest in nocturnal bliss. What scavenges the weak, the herb,
Evening time sirens chime & recede somewhere in the city & fires elsewhere request attention & dozing on your daybed I can only imagine
I It was our next-door neighbor lying on his tongue, an open eye staining the rug where a dime-sized pill sat trapped in its
Back and forth in the mill we cut wood stack it on pallets ten hours twelve then the big Amish man Toby chops