a new month

first one of the year


I call upon shadow, I awaken the thistled viper that claws its way into the cords of being.

The crispness of cold air on my face, this breath that succumbs: I become foam,

a layering of dust on my eyelids. I name sorrow as it is: a bed.

In the forest of the unknown, a humming void, moonlit coarseness

takes its true form: embankments in my memory

take cover in dullness. I bring forth rain, to keep dusk

apart from the grass. I remember your name.

I unearth the low, broken flicker

from the insides of mineral denseness nurturing the roots;

old and luminous;

its core dazzled momentarily, gasping within itself.

I turn away from it, its song housing a note too silky,

too swollen for better uses. I no longer seek it.


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