the afterlife
of ghost plants
Category: forest
fool moon
that photo-negative sun
when I close my eyes
wind-sculpted snow
my caravan
of one
no jets
for hours the sky
unlined
just at the point
of running away
white-tailed deer
trail maps
the easy chair’s
mountain
snow
whiter
oak
on a path
swallowed by forest
horned moon
purple
stripes on trees
nothing’s private
as for me
the mossy side
of the trunk
bubbles
frozen under the ice
or current resident
clinging
to what leaves
American beech
