ant5

•

dove colored clouds

tearing on

the wooden fences

•

•

•

late summer

weeds in the rock pile

still green

•

•

•

the fly

on my eyebrow

I feel his limbs

•

•

•

deep beneath the hay

a phone book

now solid

•

•

•

August

petrichor

with a tang

•

•

•

after the heat

rain is mist

moving downward

•

•

•

we find

blood and bits

of wire

•

•

•

the time

of night

we hear horses

•

•

•

corner of the valley

the real dark

is here

•

•

•

early apples

translucent

on one side

•

•