
clouds - low & textured -
look yet angrier when seen
in the cold river.

clouds - low & textured -
look yet angrier when seen
in the cold river.

a black crow,
oily & otherworldly,
alights on a rock.

i follow the light
out of the woods and into
a yellow glade.

old wasp nest:
looks like the whole hive
hulked its way out.

on a narrow ridge,
covered with fine dust,
my foot slips. I’m awake!

one hundred birds
startle at my presence;
one eyeballs me.

a blossom falls
into the water:
i look. it’s gone.

curb crows
stand in a row.
what’s the sky say?

at water’s edge,
snakes wrestle: writhing, twining,
but slipping the pin.