one
a decade hence. all that's remembered is the cool, even, morning sun
spring
feel it slipping woke up
down away steps from drops
cliffs holes sealed over cracking
soiling spilling splitting cups
head off the wagon rolling never stops
summer
lock the key in the hole you dug up my chest
has a tree grown inside from seeds of aspen
throw the remnants like the tenants in the pits
sell our father to our mother the bonds from
picking cherries plucking pity through the brush
autumn
what I take is mine is me
what taking for others means to me
means for me
taking talking to them outside of me
each thought cannot be
simply for me
talking taking what goes on in "we"
to them to me
through them I see
that they are me
and by this window's side I see
as all has ever could or will be
reflects into me
winter
months without words
eyes known width
unhinged
friends with those birds
cheeks sunken in
hollow skin
lost the forgotten
o'er the edge
delirium