Apr 26, 2012
1 Min read time
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To be very young and beached on a couch.
Describe this feeling as rubber,
warm to the touch,
lodged in the chest.
In a cabin in the mountains, see bluish fog
or the rogue sky coming
through cloud
to dislodge stone habit. To stand by
stood up against surprise—
a valve that lets another consciousness arrive.
For a figurine slung from the ceiling
see a fat-bellied hen, see a flat fish,
a glassed leaf, a blinking desert built,
like tonight, out of lightning.
I’m on a mountain, rocking in its side.
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April 26, 2012
1 Min read time
