three o clock

three o’ clock



a clean root system

for ease of transport




only short range



a longing–

for nectar of one

thousand years’ sleep

and dream




I walk from here

to the edge of indifference,

all the talk—diverged

to an abstract


to the sound—is–

the sound of small creatures

within the thicket





flexing of the wind





thought pulls at underlying meaning



now stacked and labelled




pre-reflective traveler

in the onset of winter afternoon

stands at a gradient



as the gender assigned to an hour



now in between where identity,



decisions draw on for hours




the fabric


the fabric




within the stone



is where



to move


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