i live my spring like a new bone digger

who purposefully drove their car into the river

singing aye the tumbleweed of Grecian gods

has yanked me through the early twenties

of lesbianism of lamplight

of moss and masculinities

here upon the hood of a car

i sing the ancient song

pulling rocks from shirt pockets

to the archive they belong

i wouldn’t say i am amphibious,

in fact i’m rather bad at swimming

i live the body like a mud pile

marble torch

repurposed office

incredible machine

shape shifting

weight

of unquantifiable parts and stories

chaptered through unruly chaos

wandering forward at top speed

never knowing what stone might taste of

singing aye the under seed of creaking logs

has thanked me into being

of liquid form of recent lore

of boyish charm now seen