(2012)
leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.
when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock
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
we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket
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.
it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.
After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.
jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…
the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass
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.
like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down
the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,
Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–