Bus

Every shining creek & pond in Jersey; the grass & trees of northeast somewhere; and seeing once a pickup truck in a field off the highway.

Want is to be moving on highway dreaming of summertime, remembering to be alive, remembering that shining creek was everything I needed and now it's gone.

I could go on like this forever.
I'm getting good at delighting myself.

I want to be penetrable darkness. I want to be an underwater where you can't see or breathe. A death facing the light tenderly joining & touching. A light looking on a dark death. A thick sweet and wet earth, where we could feel silent black force of bloom -- struggle & yielding of roots in dirt.