Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in… almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s just too easy

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.