can you hear the coyotes cackling? familia. sharks are older than fire and trees and saturn’s rings. ancient ancestors. hold my hand. and maybe breathing is an art, an invitation to sit there listening to the dark, so sit there in creosote and juniper, in the whinny of flushed mountains, in a long life with you, in now, in two more grey hairs, in smoke from incense, in experiencing a…

not a grave, adirondacks             rain and mama coalesce through summer, through years             on loan maple, blueberry, wild bergamot, marsh marigold,             and choice. she sees her everydays collecting             wonder as abuela ages. same room bending back trying to             catch some joy like sugaring through her journals tapping open             what it means to be. Sorrel…