Nightfall
There are stories
no one knows.
High summer.
The sound of tree frogs
coming
from all quarters.
Infra Dig
You know how when the sky
goes to hell in the west
there’s inevitably a black dot
of a bird moving slowly,
often left to right, and you admit,
although you know it’s
something that shouldn’t
be said, considering God granted
us dominion, that, despite
being small, such a bird
possibly matters more
to the world than yourself?
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