Strange—we are always inhabiting more than one realm of existence—but they all fit in if the art is right.
I rose from marsh mud
algae, equisetum, willows,
sweet green, noisy
birds and frogs.
Smile / to see the lake / lay / the still sky / And / out for an easy / make / the dragonfly.
Grandfather / advised me: / Learn a trade / I learned / to sit at desk / and condense / No layoff / from this / condensery.
Popcorn-can cover / screwed to the wall / over a hole / so the cold / can't mouse in.
What would they say if they knew
I sit for two months
on six lines of poetry?
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