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I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.

A box made out of leaves.
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.

From the landscape: a sense of scale.
From the dead: a sense of scale.

I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.
Everything casts a shadow.

Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.

"
— Detail of the Woods by Richard Siken (thank you, rabbit-light)

(Source: poets.org, via rabbit-light)

4th November 2011
Tags: poetry, lit, thoughts that breathe, Richard Siken, Detail of the Woods,