bodies

on the side of the road
ready for winter

Ridgetop wind

You can see farther this time of year because there’s so much less to see.

ridgetop wind
speaking in the voice
of a raven

the trees’ white skeletons
when I close my eyes

sun shriveling
in effigy

When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

shadows open
their wings

I’m already passing
that distant lake

dead leaves rising up
to dance

checking my phone
for a signal

through low sun
a yellow-shafted flicker

in my earliest memories
you were granite

to my upstairs bedroom
my own body heat