In canister culverts cavities
our words stay and fester
To renounce all, but all of what we do
As we jettison our bones
into the sea, into trenches, into
into the garbage the woman reached into
I get passionate about
the sky, noise, an elderly woman reaching
—gravity—That crazy need to eat
and a part of it coming and going
Make and destroy, the line-up, stacks
delivered and desire oblivious
All that detritus around the budding tree
What does it take to ‘accept the fact’
Damn, what do we leave, in the stream
Stripped in a strong wind,
dispensed with our reach within
—all that stuff to break our within
How can one not see that what goes in
the disposal, at your disposal,
reveals—“you must look things/in the belly”