An armís length from the image

                                    the left hand and each voice

                                    wagers an olive branch.

                                    Something to like the earth each time we pass it.

                                    Native fronds in cracks of the carwash and the better

                                    this rock to talk around.

                                                                I milk for the glitter as a toll way might empty

                                    onto lavender lines and a fracked out beauty.

                                    Each street we crease in Minot

                                    flagships of North and South and the jetties amount

                                    rose hips and stresses of a candied mouth.

                                    This recreation of echoes in the nature

                                    of bourgeois gesture

                                    and I coax a catacomb like a turnstile count of penance.

                                    Land art some textual bluffs, mark

                                                                 the mistakes I have made with my spiritual couriers.

                                    Eating a moon pie,       having cashed our Steele Reserve

                        One loudspeaker in the grazes         
                                                                                                    THE UNCONDITIONAL FIELD       

      flat  roden                             vines

                                                                                  Somatic impact by each graft
                                                                                                                            of reach.


Sophie Linden lives in Portland, OR.