everything is growing in my flavor
the red wine we talked about
with our fingers
fall leaves all round
when i left
right here, is in my fingers
on tips of needles
like pine
slowly slaying
a week is a long time to die
i wonder if i am hungry or just slow
and if the moon even cares
(thrown off the tides)
about me anymore
an opal is born
the mama gives it her oils
and psalms
the air is as soft as it should have been
twenty years ago
the super cycles
i wonder
i wonder
