Earthened

Absurdity takes me out to a field
to dig a hole in silence.
I make my home in the dirt,
keep my ashes on the hearth.
Strangers occupy the same deep space.
We blink only once.
It’s summer, I feel the trees.
Everything is either bone, or dust.
I don’t see in here.
A child laughs.
There are no distinct patterns.
No lessons to be drawn.
Slow light.
A purple ease.

Inside the Body Goblet

Sideways baluster
or dead-sleep position for      counting
sheep sheared
 
Vegetable
with skin and core of      cabbage
vibrancy
 
Suitcase in snow
patterned interior, lightly bizarre      alive
in plastic pockets
 
Boulder in river
not for leaving      this
thrashing dystopia

Balcony

I reach my cold hands out

into the autumn sun:

little balconies.

I am my only house.

I house.

To the spider with its many eyes

I am a carapace.

To the birch in blue light

I am a melted tree.

A single mountain diving

miles within itself.