There’s this river underground

the birds sing of it as though

it were a gem as though a gem

 

we’re something they had interest in

though perhaps my translators

but no don’t let me blame them

 

this river at times packed

with grey slush moving fast

enough that the fish wish they

 

had eyes but here on the lost

real estate development the

philosophers have left

 

with the fabled food trucks

that won’t return

Recovered Notes on the New Planet

the sky moves so fast a fragrance like marshmallow


what I thought a purple crystal dissolved in morning dew


evidence of the old civilization if the light is just right on the microscope slide


meters into the crevasse wrongly assumed it was scree


fields like maple syrup over a fresh argument


a language I’ve yet to master sneaks into my notes


returning to a previous marker an acrid smell sunken ground


stuck inside the tent autocorrecting hail


rivers like a laughing bandage to forget the insults of rock


the way forward often loops around in sharpened midday rain


what I wrote on a rock ran away


this mountain like melted gnomes who to name it after


a quiet spot by the river eaten by these mineral teeth


the silicavore’s thought projections jostle the rover’s gyro


a fine web like cotton candy spreads toward the sea by evening


I think there are dogs in the clouds


a dry brown leaf and voices in the wind almost enough like home