seed, feed or become the earth

the only star we know to have cataclysmed pine nuts
into existence—bringing close six songs i can hear
where i’m sitting—lies down quiet this evening,
unlike everyone else. two canada jays in a balsam fir,
uncautious at all. not far from here spruce squats
into sagebrush. in october, the juniper berries heavy.

there is so much to eat no one’s fighting.
the news stays dark as every night.
we barely understand oranges and olives, let alone
war crime. i leave the birds what the birds
do not need, not from me. not yet. in the fall,
every seed has three options. no, four—
i remember one is being forgotten.

Read more from Issue No. 32 or share on Twitter.