morning in south garden
trish in the carrot bed
tyler a few beds over
and me with the broadfork
in a square for flowers
we talk about tattoosdays
broadfork for life tyler says
i need more time to think about it i say
c’mon frank trish says something along the lines of live a little/never look back


even though no one says we have to stay here
a sense of freedom
as we hop in the truck and
wind through missouri hillshighway air ruffling through the windows
sun on our limbs

i love how the trees haven’t fully leafed out yet
how we can look out and still see the tree shape
(trunk/branches) surrounded by green

which is different than the view out my small window
once the woods fill in
(that, i say, is more like a wall


a nursery small enough
that it is a reasonable thing for one to walk through every greenhoused aisle
and look at every variety of plant
a nursery big enough
that they offer what i am seeking
(snaps, alyssum, sweet williams, dahlias

when i look up/out
the contrast:
greenhouse green with plants and colored with flowers
framing the view out the far-end door: brown/dust field
stretching forever north


the abandoned/falling apart and beautiful
(rounded windows on the corner, signs painted sometime in the 50s
lettering from the 30s) buildings of
what was once a bustling square
in edina missouri
we went on an ice cream mission
and returned with all the dreamy ideas of possibility
that empty spaces present


81 degrees reads the thermometer (outdoor temp)
in the kitchen
just enough (heat) to feel comfortable in this skin

india ink in a bottle cap
sewing kit opened on the table
a fresh needle and thread for each of us
trish says
see, we do things clean around here


not quite a pop
but there is a sound
and a way the ink pools
that lets you know you’re going deep enough
trish says threadwrapped needle poked into a pencil in her hand
me couch-lounged on my stomach
my right calf under her steady hand


aphex twin album that i haven’t heard since the skunkhouse 2000
how it brings back the temporarily baled-in outdoor kitchen
the gigantic woodstove and the places between the bales where the cold air
would come through
the bed that fit five in a time
when minna was still alive
zipped into her sleeping bag at my side


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