Post 8: Poem for September

An arable land, cheap as dirt from ground up.

This hand on the land

the nod-land (to natives

an arrowhead picked out of soil)

back shift in memory to treed hill, deer, & hunger

The lay of the land is as the line of land, and always - plats, plates shift

our bodies are never finished without their context, place & space.

inseparable.