What people said, what left the table dark.
None stayed inside the house, nor close around.
Each direction its direction bound.
Like when you leave the arcing thing to arc.
Like papers gather papers in the park.
We note the wind is what can't hold the ground.
While hearing transfer stations fill with sound.
And let the city alter a remark
a little further from explaining what
was meant. A creak again or just a creak
right then. Like leaning forward on the cart.
A structure falls to stay its every strut.
I'd like to speak. I said I'd like to speak.
And someone sighs, they broke the silent part.
I felt perfected along the rectangle
By its ragged side
Fences trees and mist dropping
Some space for the flowers
I set an image in my head where
Bushes in their out of focus
Made a green dearth about the door
I wanted to do a book on
Pages left in the heat or rain
But my desire seemingly disappeared
Picked up by a car in the middle of
A pack of cigarettes
This trip into the forest
The trees trading with memory to
Frame the various breaks
The pleasures of small laws cut
Behind the mower with my eyes
Running the grass blades
We don’t really get any older
I can see what that means