(May 2023. Written in the dark after aya ceremony. Barely readable in the tan birch notebook, strips of birch bark falling into the dark.)
Birch Bark
What is behind poetry
Where all things converge.
Strips of birch bark
crisp in my flaking hands
…
I want to force beauty
into every lost piece
Beatin' Paths ~~~ The journey to the Great American Novel 