inhabit: oak & 70th

human, bird and bracket bones
washed away, without a home,
dried up petals float
all around our shaggy blooms, what
we call wind-beaten innuendos.

crisp winter skin, thin
layer of ice in my cistern bin,
collecting the water to grow
my first garden on a branched out
balcony. soon i’ll have lettuce
leaf babies and sweet pea shoots
bringing me closer
to the earth, that queen,
when she leaves her pearls behind.

Oak70th

i’ve been blackberry brambling for days.
pieces of mining operations
in the middle of soccer fields.
trash on the tracks, stacked
windows looking at nothing but
roads: boulders plowed down
like flat thirsty tongues.
here we go, up the styrofoam hill
single file through the spirit world.

filtering out nature only works
for so long. case in point:
there’s ants in my bathtub.


Illustration by Sawyer Anderson (@scumbagartist)

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