not yet the story

not yet the story


it was matter

mixed with




of light


it was she seeing,


against afternoon light





impossible reflection itself—

a glance of water surface


dark shadows and sky


—to enter


as crossing a foreign wall




always an outside




it is said messages

come from within the nest—


difficult to track—


footprints continue to evolve

at each windburst




lyric in the underbrush


sky sky





breath breath






and the song





drawn lines in the palm


illusion of gratitude or

an emptiness to wander


the old road for the sake—

is not yet the story






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