Scraping away the edges

layer on layer
nothing ever lost
a shift occurs
this or that
alive or not
fluid or static
breathe it in
sweat it out
I will grow oak trees in my time
and you will come to live


and marvel at the emptiness
at the end of all things

the air will weep upon us
and we will flow through all the edges
into infinity
between, around
and, probably,
we will meet at some edge or other
in some time

Evening Walk at the Shore

The Edge of the Woods

Evening Walk at the Water Line