the wild gestures of one
living alone
Tag: trees
saying hello
to a moss-covered log
heron wingbeats
slow fall
the standing dead
turn blue
death in autumn
that inevitable cliché // the deplorable rightness of nature
Old Man of the Woods
returning to the grove
he planted
moonlit forest
the giant
my father was
sleeping
with one eye open
it’s his vigil too
In the sun’s house
we saw for the first time what a complete absence of nuance would look like. How irresistible it would be.
insomniac eyelids on strike for overtime
Two trains running
Trying to find the words for a rock oak on the mountainside…
end of summer
holes
in mushroom parasols
the exact middle of nowhere
empty web
forest…
enough daylight
for an ant
