well, I see
the sky over Ireland
or maybe marble markings
as tight as a fiddle string
makes a sound i heard before I had ears
i know my hands shake themselves, now-
i see better with both my eyes closed.
through fields of planted music
it’s seed inside
the soul/soil of a fertile mind)
so do you!
I may forget my name soon.
a used clock beats on the face of the moon.
i travel by wrist.
you can hear me leave.