The Brightest Years

The Brightest Years

stone arch bridge. west skyline. ars poetica

it is not pulled from
the sunset

nor does the sunset pull

the sun
is another thing
completely

the earth turns
like a knot of guts
first time i felt the skin of your hand

when our ancestors
looked up from caves and trees
they saw
these words

georgia o'keeffe, west window, 5pm

work cube sill
a pothos cutting finally crumpled

death was a color of brown
sucked slowly through the potting

the whole window of sky
with her georgia
o'keeffe
nothing to uproot.