Foreword
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A glitch
in the Universe
And yarrow
But it all
floods out
Wee-la
Underground
The trouble
And yet
Dull yellow
flight
In the heat of
a baking sun
Each day
unburdened by
the weight
Water fleas
The rest of me
wants to
shield the trunk
I feel seen
In flames
that lick and
cluster
A line
of mirrored
wonder
Face
down in the
gravel
In the night
Both were kind
of magical were
they not?
And forgiving
As the
white-bellied
sea eagle loops
And finite
the horizon
The rage
For people
like me
That remain
intact,
in spite of
Surely, no
one can handle
that kind
And the other,
between felts
of pineapple
To risk the
possibility of
dormant crowns
Then nothing
but a
shimmering
The
discomfort
of morning
Before
(and again)
their emerald
Before
(and again)
their emerald
In the
gravitational
pull
Why would
we stick to
it like glitter?
Before the
real damage
sets in
And regenerate
that beating,
molten core
Where do
failures
of the heart
These years of
life-limiting
recovery
Had I
not felt
the water