so much daylight in a day my own face is revealed to me sallow and blemished when nighttime comes i pull the sheet over my head and become fully invisible birds are still singing orange trees are still blooming cars go roaring by my apartment i hear, see, taste and smell in that third eye that sleeps above the world
I've got to get a life, somebody else's perhaps, for mine is fading fast, its signposts, its diagnoses, its daylight.
My child, sometimes i miss you so much that i can't feel you, though i dream you, hold your little feet, call you "baby". Do you miss me like that late at night when your anxiety comes on, relief ten digits away, clear as a bell my voice across the wires?
the logger meltdown is coming the long haul into anger and despair our silences deep holes left by the huge tree trunks and the unbearable noise in our ears as we pull a hundred times our weight through bramble and brush and roll the logs into the river we'll be tired and drunk by sundown if we haven't up and quit