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.