I keep writing poems on the precipice
of sleep.

This boy, half my height,
mutters

Up, high above the sleeping town,
A dragon’s flying all around

noun [home] : wet heat of my grandparents’ house

summer evening,¹
moths circle the silent lake,²
stirring the water³

As for today each season appears to escape the calendar.

The athletic revolution gives back, restores trails, water
sacrifices craft.

the withered branches grope upwards          as if hoping for something better