But that’s all just ex post facto guilt masking as self-concern. Here we go.

Obsidian flakes glitter, the clear sound of a shovel full of dirt landing and scattering

Over a freshly taken shit.

Moments later, amidst stream gurgle and tree sway,

One foot placed in front of the other

Plastic grocery bag holding raisins &

Peanut butter & banana sandwiches a pendulum

Swinging against the pack in

Placid rhythm. Sunny now. Hail will

Come soon I bet.