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snow back closed back
reservation

to Kala’s last in the

pouring rain

giving birth to spinning
puddles
bright and dull in

their majesty

a sensation of peace
scooped from the punch bowl
given purpose in the dark twist
housed beside it all

and David’s cliche
a letter on the back of a lottery ticket
“loneliness for the black crow
on the sly
an English bird
loneliness for the golden
magpie basking in memory”

at Kala and in holy light

what could it be
Justin high in the woods?
chainsaw for teeth
and brown mushrooms in between?
yes?

could be seen in the rock

pools
a quiet surge of everything
that happened