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

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

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 best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

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.

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

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

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

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

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

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

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

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,