The Great Unstitching

The Great Unstitching

Every day we invent this age’s
place in spurts, pockets. This is our

city, the unsaid net that lets
humans and cars live together

peacefully, these are the buildings,
this is a park. Fewer people to

conceptualize the countryside,
they do more work. These fields

are here and alive. The chickens
will eat what we give them. Here

are the stars above our homes.
In the wild spots where few or

no people live, the places blow
about, blurred. The desert shifts

some of its cells. Water lifts a little,
sinks. No pine needles fall, then,

a pine needle falls, four more. Here
no one knows what truth is escaping.

The Great Unstitching has begun,
it is good, no one is here to scream.