train rails from montana
ship oak trees
and the smallest birds
( not yet able to fly )
but at least
afternoon clouds orbit
I read the walls of my hotel
stars out of pattern as backdrop
the riverbed outside
becomes a selfish mouth of water
fish corpses and fog
your head in the frame warps a bit
while sorrow illuminates the
deterioration of rumor
I watch shadows crook
like a fresh self
as floating lights extinguish
the ark of slumber



















I'm just glad that I was even able to figure out a palce to put new poems. I have obsessive issues when it comes to putting things nicely together. Go figure as a poet, Right? 







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