I don’t believe in anything,
no cable that welcomes us
The crafted shore
of crying birds.
Alone in the belly
of a single branched tree.
I find these things all with you.
Or the words we rearranged
and the combinations that split
along the dirty water in my head.
I like this soulless hum
of metallic drivers, pistons firing
into the atomized filaments that wrap
down into the base of your spine.
I like it all these days. The drive through the loosened
rocks of the Cumberland. The moments in
our silence, the dipping in and out of range,
a mesh of spidered and fallen trees.
The darkening sky, the opening of the universe
dancing in a beautiful comb of white across what
I am still remembering