first the needle, then the thread
dismal sin, may thee wed
little babies from a stork
today the spoon, tomorrow the fork
I sat alone on a pedestal bench
in the unforested woods beyond
spooked by trees creaking and
four wheelers roaring
up to my knees in fallen branches
edges cut clean, sliced from the trunk
shifting faces swirling around me
in the hard horizontal sun
I turned away, my stomach pulled
breathed through the breathing
lungs rising and falling
rocking me slowly to sleep
saw shining diamonds in a row
breathing fire from the abyss below
first the stool, then the chair
enjoy it now, we'll soon be there
the schools that swarm upstream feed
our nests and nets, but today I cast for
big dwellers at bigger depths instead --
dig beneath any and there's dirt
2011
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