imagination, like the blue of sky, sometimes seeds will, like the sky seeds rain.

under the concrete in secret parallel, your steps shade mine. seed of my seed split, i drop 6 acorns in patient barter.

i have nothing to give you. look, nothing is spare. no, i cannot surrender the wealth in the circle of my arms.

the cut for the key comes first, then i press my eye to the fissure hoping to find something

does fear still ask for its dues, colonising shuttered space? in the maintenance cycle, what was eroded?

standing shoulder to shoulder bearing coffin and kin, intimate gestures borne through generations, faces recognisable to themselves.

from the legion of voices that muster each morning give the bugle to the ragged one who calls persevere

the field spreadsheet the fence last centuries sums the grass supple in the wind

storm stripped, you re-clothed me in care, the nests feathers are not extra but the touch of love that is life.

your peace gated against the many who pitch and sink in the cities tide

the ringing tone loops memory damp boxes and tenderhooks and the trudge back to the small room