plucked clean
the plumage of
concealment
into a river
the dark matter
between stars
 
within
the space of thought
pomegranates
ripening
on the ground
figs
 
a squirrel carcass
fills out 
its own shadow
not quite real
lightning and thunder
while we chat
in sea roar
eyes distilling
stillness
for this world
a leaf and its tree
drift apart
my daughter!
for this moment
none younger
morning fog —
the flesh of shadows
cast by words