refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.