1700 c/o Brian Warfield


looking out onto placid water
a bird flies over it
i am surrounded by woods
3 hours from town
my ax rests against the
logs i cut to make my home
the valley down below
will become tiered
the craggy peak will descend
all trees splintered
my lantern shaking out shadows
darkness and light swapping
as everything ruptures
my griddle sizzling a snap
crack open my skull
as the earth shuffles
the bones within my frame
deer legs splayed running hoof
over kneecap
birds still soaring over
mounting wave