I ingest what I love and I apologize...

My calves go numb as I quietly disappear, as the sun unravels fulfillment.

The hammocks sway in a slight breeze funneled...

I wait in the driveway: Gemini. I must rename them — Dragonfly...

In that sanguine hour, when the body numb sheds its cruel weight...

out here, there is little to do but shake off the rain...

I cursing, turned to scream one more time into the blue face of a god I do not know...

The burn-end brushed her — She, in the dark...

I carved our names in a tree’s fat thigh...

And what greater gift is breath, to be turned, again and ever...