the traditional sauerkraut
salty as tears
Category: built environment
college town
even the old motel
is younger than me
In a dream, I ask advice on raising children
and am told to bury them in the yard so they’ll ripen.
I dreamed a giant silk moth fluttered into a museum
and joined its life-like relatives on the wall.
I place myself
on the Underground map uneasily, wondering how such ideal points and lines can add up to anything resembling the surface.
Bronze Age
Migratory as an eel, unstable as molten metal wavering between stone and water, I dreamed myself adrift in a forest of the dead, one more leaf returned to the forge of life, green blade that does not crumble, however fallen, in any autumn that we know.
bronze Gandhi
patina sending tendrils
toward the earth
