(2012)
something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.
before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.
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
everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of
leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.
Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–
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.
the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.
it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.
tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.
sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.
we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket
like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down
A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.
the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,