not because of its height in absolute terms but because of its distance. It stands apart—but also in the way. Its roots go deep.
Category: forest
I was lost
and didn’t know it. I had a cellphone-shaped hole in my heart.
A road is a blankness,
a life sentence for its strip of land. But sometimes it glows, livid as a scar.
Sound travels more slowly in the cold.
Over the next four years, some words may freeze before they leave our mouths.
Seasoned, we say,
as if time and weather were condiments.
boulder field in snow
its only other crop
besides lichen
Ribcage:
simply because of that word, I have always thought of my insides as a jail.
turkeys in snow
each footprint resembles
a bird in flight
bitter cold day
crushing dried horsebalm
for the scent of lemons
The first people to make flutes from bones:
what must they have believed about music to search for it there?
In this new upside-down world
crops grow in the absence of sunlight, sexless and cold as an economist’s dream.
In the ideal interrogation room
the only shadows are kept like handkerchiefs in the pocket.
