The echoes held him, hugged him, hurled him down,
And above all October seemed to shout:
‘You worried you with what it’s all about.

I sit in a body & think of a body, I picture
Burnens's hands, my words
make them move. I say. Plunge them, into the hive,

I kept it hidden, it was easy
to hide, behind my lingerie, a shoebox

above my boys' reach, swaddled alongside

in complete peace a body bares itself

even if it looks at you
without uneasiness or hate

A soft body fills itself with silence.

dry bread keeps
a taste of the legend

The hour has the flavor of its time.

the reflecting pool is stagnant
deserts pursue their mirages.

He watches the weather’s sepia