Say what you will about the lizard brain;

it would be useful to have an unblinking third eye to keep track of the sun.

At the encampment of the damned,

there’s so much less fornication than at the encampment of the saved.

all the trees graffitied
with fresh snow

we forget after a while that they aren’t the horizon, that their trees don’t go on forever, that the sky is wider than we can know.

the only trail signs
are in Bear

the dog digs up a pile
of frozen guts

the pond’s ice creaks
under her weight

blooming in December
so much for kigo

lying at right angles—
my camera is a phone

the forest within a forest
of porcupine quills