but have you tried digging yourself whole about it?
drop the latch of the shovel’s mouth to the dark marrow mother
heap it up into a bundle of earthen possibility
collect the ache of it
there are no diminishing gains in infinity
wide open circles crash in create & destroy
we keep fumbling around for naked words
clamor for a cloud in wide open blue
star light twinkle above the river’s tree bed
messages in a bottle shoot across dawn’s sky
“I’m wide awake, it’s morning” claims the piano’s disjointed keys,
the cawing voice of familiarity loops like a parody
some divine comedy
keeps beckoning me home.
