Night Build

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Night Build


Because the day was mis-measured 

and cut short before I could 

take this block of being and saw it 

square, so now I’m here, thinking how 

it’s all a matter of this nattering 

mattering, how much past that 

the dim-light of this dim head-

lamp won’t illuminate. Whirling galaxies

shot from the shoot of a miter saw. Whirling

droplets of lightning bug in every sun-

sneeze. Something snuffling 

unseen along the woodline. It’s fine, 

isn’t it, how little we can build or fix

within our stare, how still 

it settles on our lips and in

our lungs: with every breath 

the stars shift, the firmament responds.


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