this secret,  tucked in the vault of my mind  hidden in the holes in my heart  buried behind my buttoned beak lol i promise – this will be my little secret before the water boils and bubbles over the pot –  i promise  i won’t tell i call you because 

beating, battered and bruised  her forlorn longing is not lost upon us  despite splotches black and blue  collected over years of affliction  lol carrying on, day by day  in an exasperated, and anguished type of way her incessant thumping, never halting,  regardless of the purple & green  that shapes mountains

the snow is refracting the sun’s rays  with an indistinct yellow aura –  shades of blues and greens surround me  as i walk through these woods  block happy little trees dance in the breeze  and i long to feel as free as these tiny specs floating through the air  as

we all need a reasona quantification of joy and sufferinga futile effort to veil our desolationperpetuated by our virulent fear of all unknown circumvent the unknownexist in the futurebecome like that of the futurenothing but mereconcept a concept died todaythere was no mourningupon its death it ultimately displayed vitalityas life

I got the material from a grandmothernot my grandmother, but a womanshe had borne childrenthey had borne childrenthere was a general striding of time that was appropriate to christen the cloth to make it deep with winter, spring, summer, Death to make the threadsto thread the threadsto ply the threadsto

Bare rail bed, where tracks used to runcarrying ore and dreams of wealthnorth to Slocanbefore heading to the smelter in Revelstoke.The push for expansiona railroad rushing past homesteads in the lush valleypast lonely, wild places deep in the mountains. The path disappears into bright trees far ahead of me.An autumn