But the moths find you, phantom. & the crackle of the javelinas in the brush old litany defiled the doorling stood canon toting So, you know the ground here? Where else is new or to you called unknown: gumtree tipping onto the marsh meadow's shoreline The apology wends off as smoke ground to gravel. So you were here alright, coughing on the live tape: a canoe's mystery hurt by its name Fall back with your hands before or behind you just so.
Copyright © 2010 by Joshua Marie Wilkinson. Reprinted with permission of the author.