| 1. | there is a strange hill
at the cliff’s edge
verdant and delicious
smoothly curved
from the distance
it is not a hill, really
not stone flesh
with hairs pricked up
green to the follicle
branches
push up under the surface
creating a hollow
hill of trees
we hide us in it
I am with you |
| 2. | creating a hollow
pushing up under the surface
all our hairs pricked up
not-stone flesh
laced together
there is a strange hill
smoothly curved
verdant and delicious
it is not a hill, really
we hide us in it
I am with you
at the cliff’s edge
under the
in the
branches
clutched and clutching
in the
hill of trees |
| 3. | at the cliff’s edge
under the
branches
I am with you
creating a hollow
pushed up under the surface
of the cliff’s
stone flesh
there is a strange hill
it is not a hill, really
we hide us in it
|
