In the rainforest,
life and death
at the same time,
in various stages of
green to brown
and in between.

What is the gravity
of the white moon
on the human body?

Barefooting along
the forest path,
she describes
the information
that she gathers
through her feet.

We are water
and so
is the sea,
salty and
with false edges.

Night music fills
the shadow places
of the half moon.

You pull a human skull
from the grotto. The spinal hole,
foramen magnum,
lets in the idea of sunlight
for the first time
in a century or more.

Three generations tell stories
of the things they have seen
so far. They pass the bread.
They pass the wine. Three
generations listen. They pass
the salt. They pass the water.

And the Sound of the Sea

Gravel in our hands,
your leftover bones,
the children grab handfuls
for the garden
beneath grandfather fir trees
where the earth
is soft with returning.
I will try not to forget
the faces by the firelight,
the ants making their piles,
black raven that circles
and flies on.