acrididae

for a moment
change rubbed along
with hunger

Midpoint of Nothing

Stars without conjunction
cross Heaven’s half-world;
only empty space beyond
our orbits and ellipses.

wisdom singing

morning

birds scream joy
at daybreak

shackled and drawn

this is how
fortunes were made
from the fruit of our bones
field and furrow subverted open sky
sweat out of sunlit drudgery