My eyes feel 
miles away from 
my face but
not forward behind 
whatever I say
being this way 
I will mean 
once my vision 
eventually catches up 
somehow with you 

Stasis this frozen 
that caughtness between 
here and there 
hither and nigh
being the and
between two things 
pushing against other 
but not but
or even or
for those two 
suggest some inclination 
just being and
in the middle 

I’m driving 
through canyon 
deep in
fog hoping 
for slope 
to top
for clear 
air and 
sun and 
some clouds 
so goes
this morning 
before coffee 

Wounds don’t 
bind others
to each 
scars do 
those who 
wail tragedies 
never heal 
go away 
lick wounds 
and comfort 
all those 
you meet
must too
one day 
forest den
or burrow 

Most people don’t 
a few do
but not many 
most go about 
many never stay
making this seem 
like the weather 
all too predictable 
such are seasons