In our near nothingness the music resonates
resurrection is a myth / and thus not false
Sugared be the beet, the red ant, / the spiked border
I mistook tragedy / for a verb and ran with it.
walking / three days under the clean stare / of a sun
Yes, the most breathtaking things always have the thickest armor.
My eyes are heavy with imagining.
The air was a season they had bought…
the sky—a womb stung / by countless golden bees.
We were almost back to normal