yes brother duck, it’s a wonder
the whole world, the wharf
is water, and here you lord over
the great world’s wound bleeding
this moment’s victory will bleed
over into an uncertain one
still writ by water
Category Archives: Days
Day 62, 2024
hug my pipe
watching the river slap
roll over the wharf: memories
of old evening tides wash up midday
the great world’s wound
coming unsutured
under a cold sun
Day 60, 2024
[note from the archivist:]
self [lost]
in the vast
uncharted
lands of fiction
all maps / reports
sent ahead
on a raft
of murmurating pigeons