I am
not
so much
undelineated
as
a vague absence
a smudge
(each
morning
early
fog dances
along
borders
between
trees
shapeless
without
intent)
and or
(light
explodes
cross-hatched
across
a cold
mountain
pond)
one and
or the
other
me and
or you
a blur
I am
lost with
in with
out your
love
(March 2013)
