deep shadow purpleand heavy with dewi pick morning violets, small water orbspetal cuppedrefracting silver and spring, held by the sweet scentof every lifetime spentwet-kneed in the morning,picking quiet violetsforest edge it is a lonely soundthe distant hollow thudof the gravediggers spadeforest edgein the morningbut deathhas always beenlonely –unwanted, unsummonedunexpectedeven when it isinevitable yesterday old brannon-ponydied…
1. i suppose it would happen,leaning into what it means to livealive in the worldto live truly open, i suppose it would happenthat i would wonderwhere you were in the worldwhere you are and how it happened thatour way togetherwas lost. 2. when we forget ourselvesfor a while –forget the me, forget the us,forget who…