See the lands say this is where we could

have come from—the lines of indent, snow-

filled-in contour ground, as branches of

lightning—seek explanation of how these

mountains, valleys, anything, got here.

When did halt of believing w/eyes stop

being enough—we have seen this, too,

& those come before us in sanguine only

relation, who knew fauna, rock formations

of friction differently, not to be mistaken

w/erosion, & that orange lit from up in

the inside, right as touched by the silver

rod that siphons electricity, so we should

think instead, “Don't forget that I’m w/you,

even if you can't see me, I’m w/you.”


In-habit ourselves in the center that isn’t in the

middle concerned w/lasting longest—define

mass of ground we live off w/strict boundaries—

stand where is the focus, search property records

at the local office, then spread outward b/c in

these parts around there’s nothing that isn’t closer

to the brown we came from, more of our utility. 

But now we finish up every-thing in front of us,

shine out the flows to reassemble unusual

materials that hit the wall out of the ground, all

ready to go—follow force vector parallel to the

surface normal—think about these lands before we

ever came to, then move out-side, elsewhere in the

opposite direction, find bigger stakes of four, say,

“This is where we’ll be okay,” we’re not moved when

faint ones come, then softer the soil, longer the shaking. 


Be the only two who seem to stand upright

as ground—v-shaped & mouth open to the rest

of—filches itself down, leaves nothing of it.

We don’t want to have to find other up against

other, say, "I can keep folding in half & never

get enough of," but there's the thickness we are

forgetting to take into account & magma apart

into fragments, ejected where they solidify, & we

haven't seen the sun for days but we're not going

anywhere until one takes the other out, smoke, fog

& cloud cover all at once—we can't see our own

hands—think, finally, we can't see each other,

one if not both of us gone for good, black as night

at noon & there’s nothing to be done about it now.


We were good when we could see the reliefs,

but buried & kept where we know we’ll be when

rock folds & twists, we don’t follow our animals

that move in herds, feel the cold air we’ve looked for

all along out of canyon, demolish the opening to fit

our bodies in, against calcite rub for luck, say “we can

walk this length for the rest of our lives,” bargain w/what

was lost after we can’t win back what was, gradual

dissolution of limestone by acid-rich stagnant water.

Enlarged the cracks that formed during uplifts, we think

of anything but tectonic thickening by collisions, destruction

by sediment subduction in the miles of no-one & nothing,

get lost in deep mantle roots we know won’t move, &

if we have to, admit happening, can we do it together.


This is not enough for us to know we are

alive & if this tells us nothing of what is,

arms out directly in front ready for root

grown up from lower to trip us, bring faces

to ground, hit all at once on dirt sullied w/

lithics, cuts of unconnected & spread

hexagons to mark us, say, “as long as we

never stay still again we are still,” but never

meet on—offer other to suffer through separation

together, think w/transition from worship of object

to abandonment all together we don’t have to

pay any attention to where we are going as

long as agree, always, we will never get there.


We once got in where we can’t get out & quest

for the coast after coming down our sides, every

thing on our bodies burnable even that we can

arrive here, can’t bait w/live or dead & stand where

earth coalesced from material around the sun

struck by planetesimal shortly after, cosmic dust

grains collide & stick to—we are larger. The longer

we stay on thin soils & here retreat into boreal,

upbraid divide that sends these waters in different

directions—wills us to go to one or other—but if

we think our mouths to ground in muskeg, say,

“we’ll hear each other again; there’ll be another

time,” swallow the nutrients & slow grow cloud-fed,

isolate our-selves from us & our surroundings, take

it from here & leave us alone where we found it.


Motion only with eyelids when desperate,

waterlogged w/rainwater predominate over

what comes up from ground, we learn to live

under blanket, tolerate little to no nourishment,

blend into evergreen expanse when we posture

in a drier pause. We try to stay in the system

& adapt like orchids, endanger ourselves

like cranes paired off in breeding season, drawn

to whatever runs inward but feeling all else

outward & think the plan from beginning wrong—

that we tried our hardest but still not enough—

grab moss anchored in sedges but float over

water, walk on the surface & cause all trees

to sway desperate in a violence of anywhere else.