A series of departures

By | 15 September 2022

Lately I’m more interested in how the neck and the head
don’t say anything of the feet.

The cormorant disappears.

There are times my smile has been interpreted as joy.

This morning the clouds are like arrows whose sole purpose is
not stopping.

No one admits to robbing anyone. But the forest is thinning. Already
the clouds are less than they were.

When the sun goes down I will make my way home.

I keep returning to the neck and the head.

It’s the sea every time.

The way the cormorant is so completely


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