ant5

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cricket

his new neighborhood

the washing machine

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summer ends

in the same

waiting room

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now and then

a few pages of the book

to keep it alive

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the chickens

follow the sun

into the blueberries

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behind me in line

a woman murmurs

into her phone

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the clouds open

we make

light toast

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a kind of sand

left in the bottom

of the water bowl

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around the shade tree

goats stacked up

on each other

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heat wave

ghost towns

in its wake

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distorted

through the soap bottlle

the spider’s still big

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