shift, shift,


the hills move

Iím sure of this, they

bend and arc


I want to go to the cemetery and look at stones

read the idle or longwinded ones


once precious now are stones

and I am alone to wear my stones


they gain longer as the sun goes down

burning fires in the far forest

turn the sky to milk rust

merge with the clouds


later ash rains

I keep some solemnly in the cup of a jar

used to be a whole universe