Sleeping through the eclipse
All enshrouded mind blocked by the body’s
Shadow. By the tired turn of blood longings.
But sleep, flesh. The skein of spheres
Writhes into night’s wormed wood one more knot.
All enshrouded mind blocked by the body’s
Shadow. By the tired turn of blood longings.
But sleep, flesh. The skein of spheres
Writhes into night’s wormed wood one more knot.
Unwashed stainberry, as kids we threw you
At each other like our future fallen selves
The hole in the sky nobody can look at–
The sun in the cereal box
Falling through folded foil.
Everything that revolved around me
Lay unmoving beneath the maple
–no! They are stirred by a leaf’s breath.
Loblolly pines peel away from the paling sky
looking back on their roots.
Over one’s shoulder the full moon
eclipsed on the western horizon’s
almost an after-thought. As indirect
light rises from the ground below us men come,
constructing the canopy tent for the next
funeral. Ground fog further east glows
red and headlights are no longer
necessary to see where you’re going.