on pedestals 
                            
Orion without a spare arrow 

wailing is the human sound 

paint the ceiling blue it’s the only control we have over the color of the skylight

keeping the wild and free, we discard our ancestors
a fox's entailed entanglement
if it’s part false just sprinkle some light

blazing through my mind like a summer rain
footfalls down, the banister's curve tightens, a trusted grip follows...no end
warmth and color leak into my skin

walled off garden giving room to the wild trees

sanded down



Quiet suchness
of quiet