As grains sort inside a schist







An ancient woodland indicator called dark dog’s mercury







River like liquid shale







And white-tipped black lizard-turds on the blue wall







For a loss that every other loss fits inside







Picking a mole until it bleeds







As the day heaves forward on faked determinations







If it’s not all juxtaposition, she asked, what is the binding agent?







Creepy always to want to pin words on “the emotional experience”







Azure hoplia cockchafer, the caddisworm, the bee-louse, blister beetle, assassin bug







The recriminations swarm around sunset







When it was otherwise quiet all the way around







You who were given a life, what did you make of it?





