But it wasn’t until I got up to dance that I entered the music.
Tag: trees
mountainside
echoing with tundra swans
a dead deer
In every quest narrative, it’s the very beginning that I like—
before the first adversaries appear, when the path is still a magic carpet and has yet to reveal its serpentine coils.
Just by living and pushing back against the world
we build our memorials, our rings of stone.
On a friend’s kitchen counter,
three potatoes had gone feral, growing ghostly branches out of their eyes. I kept my shirt pulled down so my navel wouldn’t get any ideas.
For a moment I forgot where I was,
the familiar trail colored by my train of thought, which might take me anywhere.
In my dream the creek says:
I am not your pet. I can rise. In one afternoon I can take back everything I’ve laid down for a thousand years.
Someday when the world is entirely covered with roads,
there won’t be any place left to visit—and therefore no reason to ever slow down.
Of all doomed friendships,
none is more tragic than that between a compulsive blurter and an obsessive brooder.
such flakes
they can’t possibly be gathering
all on their own
spelling out fences
the immaculate ignorance
of snow
At the silent vigil
we brought our words folded up like dangerous umbrellas.
