*
As if this dirt can’t overflow
has nothing behind it
except your fingertipsfurther and further apart
--you look for the waterline
the way each morning dries
closing in on you, half crater
half while this clay jar
begins to drink again
with its mouth and the flower
at home with you, here and there
covers you and nothing between.
apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3