what if the other side of humankind is only thinner air

if you have made me small enough   the whirl wind must

what has died is kept in this city in ginkgos along the streets

the memory i left in another place    is it destroyed, or sleeping

a night train rises up inside of sleep    carrying the one left behind when we were born

year after year of pokeberries :: their ripening barely heard

in the pure mist of a distant mountain    the nest not seen for years

when night is full of holes    will i see what is in me from the first day of living

can a pine from the sea ever fall to the earth

if light is grave and motionless there is no distance to lying down

what i do not have looks for me :: and there is no place that is not someone else