water – other animals

how much water do I have to drink before the statue

(First published in Under the Basho.)

still searching for the new sound for so long that the trees we planted in the wild days have made it to the other side of the desert and at night we hear heavy fruit drop sonorous into still water but this is not enough there is still a hair unreachable in the throat in the morning we find the ruins of another city it must have been spectacular with those stones in the sky

in astronomical units

under my eyelid all the long summer

grit from the forgotten pyramid

my grasswe(e)t toes too long to trod over any meringue

a golden bubble chases the pigs

while Nobody plots

late unrhymable light my splitting shoe the same

Her trilling toes through

morning-star-wet grass

over calm water an orange concierge ogles a pint of rhyme

we find the prized water. Though its song, etched in rock,

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

childless
geese
far
out
on
the
water

heat wave again someone pushing me under water

the darkness of the water in the sky still waiting

a word I didn’t expect a drop of ink uncurls in the water