light – other animals

light blue dark blue sky peppered stars
the dog lingers sniffs a neighbor’s
pumpkin and music from somewhere
far or near I once loved the feel
of night on my body wanders
under what little light comes through
though I still haven’t found it

though my eyes blur in this light there is a
certain after-cataclysm path that
feels as though you were walking upstairs
but maybe I’m not explaining it right
it’s like now that sex is out of fashion
how do you explain movies from the 80s
but let me stop you right there before I
need to write a ticket though you are my friend

Another day closer
yet the cicada yet

how do you write
again and by

you I mean

the way the
last light bends

slowly around a
lilac cloud as
the breeze gathers

thoughts
as they
exhale

before the day when the day if
but today
let a song slip through your fingers
find that last breath
barreling toward some release but
the sand in your
shorts the ice cream begins to melt
for a second
you forget that this is the way
the world moves and
that’s not
quite it either there was a kind
kind of light maybe
it falls and smalls and
smaller the world
spins people go
to parks interviews
you hear a voice
but the words garbled
maybe with a
little work but
that’s how it all
starts again freed
from one hole
you fall in another

I sit and watch the trees
in summer’s sticky green
the cicada hum then
stop suddenly the dog
sighs everything a bit
slow and tired is there some
light from this I really
don’t know but my hands this
evening ached for a prayer

medicine in silence. The sufficient light from the moon

light across the water claims no pills stick in that throat

I say the name but hidden in brown fields green peeks its head around the corner. She lets the light back slowly as ever. We are heavy with eggs. Nests being assembled. The wide water is clear and dark and deep inside something undeniable stirs.

trying to hold on to one thing in the mind with hands too small

searching for gods in the light of ice-covered trees