The Aspen Trees Were Panicking

We saw this one drifting in a halo in space.
A pinecone spinning just as you came out to greet us.
To not be afraid of other people,
I need to reach toward the distant, glowing material.
It’s hard to speak of autumn reasonably,
I don’t know how I got here so fast.
This leaf once held a more
perfect leaf.
If there is joy in not knowing,
is there pleasure in approaching the sink.
I cannot sense your whereabouts with my
whereabouts, so I tessellate the walls
of every apartment I’ve ever lived in and every other
apartment I can find.
Then I live there, like love is living there
just pasted to the sidelines.
I’d like to build a road there, but sometimes
geography falls away.
October is shining from its silver
ledge, an orange footprint spinning in a room.
Discovery is like saying
you never knew what a longboat looked like
and having a clear memory of before.
You’re standing on nothing and then the insides cluster
and there is room for new water to rise.
Take me somewhere and let’s start again.
I see a squirrel approaching for food.
I see silver leaves filling with light.
I say look at the satellites
and the satellites move.