Telling: Streams & Logs


small things

small sequences
and turnings

I open my mouth to see 
past the ringing
to the bell


small smashings

not-sleepings in deep dark


small tremblings and turnings
open your mouth

the rain jewels the green


small circles
and turnabouts

head in hand

day’s end


small branches of defense
this table

my unyielding
and always
so soft spoken


small lightnings
and their shadows
across this road
and under



small victories
the pinch of cold
the cushioning heat

my mouth


small tokens and insurrections

your hand lifting


small frequencies of serendipity

two white moths
in the garden light

the lettuces gone to flower


small ramblings and objections overruled 
a lip of stone

your hand opening

rain that won’t fall


small instigations and silences
a pressure against the flutterings

at once familiar
and unknowable