later
i lose myself time and time again.
crawl back into my ego;
cat through the dog door.
i don't know myself, or anybody else.
crawl back
in through the out door.
losing my mind completely;
rolling out in the grass.
o over the hills and far away—
small animals hunt you.
i'm starting to invite the iron scent of
hot garbage into my life.
something warm and leaking.
— 09/11/25
for snakes (and college seniors)
infinite afternoons
whittle down into final ones.
i'm suddenly aware that
i'm in a time of dying.
eternity sunsets.
parts will fall off, surely.
but,
by prune or by rot?
(do i decide that?)
and do you really believe
the jaws of life will let me
slough off this skin and
become
a
whole
new
animal?
— 08/11/25
backseat
it's all sky from down here.
straight blue, occasionally crested by:
treeptops
powerlines
high circling birds
my neck aches with the wobbling suspension.
the highway is unknown to me.
a long shaded road, which looks plesant, but leads nowhere.
because you never do anything but look.
wonder sometimes what it would be like
to go down it.
wonder sometimes how the light feels
falling in sunstripes.
— 07/31/25
untitled
It is a perfect spring evening.
The stream is quiet behind,
field mice are playing in pairs,
wildflowers choke out their competition.
And you are there,
And I am there,
And I've this confounding sense of wholeness,
And I don't know what to do with myself.
I am looking through a hagstone you gave to me.
It's supposed to warp reality.
It's supposed to let me see clearly.
But nothing seems different.
It is a perfect spring evening.
— unknown