pensive

A forest away from the pulsationsof thinking. A forest still as raindrops falling off red pine needles.My ancestors. In this forest.I am not alive, in this forest.I know as a ghost knows,a lovely, fragile, shale hunger returning broken from my handshung between the womb andwilderness,as it is born, a great disk-shapedsystem of gas, an accident of the cosmos. George Cassidy Payne is […]