The dreams I’d left there...

...this is considered evidence.

I could not walk like a spider do...

Forgotten by design by destination...

At eventide, when the proxy of being melts into the maple’s black pool...

A petal broke from the apple bloom...

Seemed sour, this monk of a bird...

What is it like when the earth gives way...

...heap of slag, a heap of bone, pigiron and such ...