at the silkscreen cinema

 photograph via look at me

classic strudel involves hours of hands-on preparation,

rolling and pulling the dough until it is so thin 

you can read a newspaper through it.
-the new best recipe cookbook, p 938

there's a stillness (sunlight and unripe leaves)
that comes of loneliness
and the yawning, constant
noise of solitude as something
unnoticed, until the moment

(the rooms in the house are peaceful
and dark with the scent of orchids.)

apples,

dropping from branches, bury in the
untame grass below.


when i wake, wild turkeys are
under the nearest trees
or down the gravel road
eating a blanket of acorn and stone.
they run from us, but at night,
i hear them roosting in the forest cliffs.

i find this extraordinary and comforting. i catch my breath
when i see them, i get tangled in the hems of their quiet.