Oh the breaking up, tbe blowing of the dandelion head, flying feather umbrellas, seeds, potential energy sent spinning kinetic.

As we walked I pulled up the purple loosestrife. It has to go. Swarms of no-see-ums in my nose, in your mouth.

Why do you like this place? You ask, incredulous.

A coyote laughs, yip yip.

In my head it's over, but the words are bound up in my head. Bound up in green heart-shaped morning glory, mind in the weeds.

We're standing next to the dead hedge in the yard. Dead hedge. Do I have to say it all word by word?

Dead hedge, and you are too, from the inside out. Ashes and alcohol, cinders spill from your ears (not orchids).

I dreamed of a fire that I caused, and I was running from the scene.

Fireweed...