Friday, February 12, 2021

A House That is Now Only Frame

Coyotes
Pass through
My yard at night

Dreams narrow
As the exile
Grows wide

And soon it includes
The whole
Valley of dust

The invisible seeds
Stretched
Towards nothingness

With each 
Lost thing 
Disappearing

What turns to noise
Becomes
A silence

Where the voices
Cannot wait
A minute more