at a distance

of mountains and sand: dreamt
within bed sweat nights
and reinvented
between hemispheres
of steely thunderheads

a collection of obstacles overcome
by way of seashells and obsidian
gathered into buckets and backpacks

these things
are only lazy visions
of home
and people misplaced
along divided highways.

thus is the lament of talons
grasping at cumulus.

it is all nothing;
an afternoon's monsoon;
cannot wash away.



wb