Grief moves from box to boxCalendars, emoticonsScreen shotsOf a pangolin and a batHaving become the animal, I amAmong the float of heavy beesEvery living thing has its natural historyTree leavesMutual needInsect calipers measuring out probabilitiesThe wind is full of shifting gears, which the overlords use to exert        their usual machinationsFinancial instruments, public relation messagesThere aren’t enough scare quotes in the world for thisHope in the presence of other people I once took as a provisional        definitionAmend, repair, revise, recognizeThat kind of incantationBut an incipient way of thinking links us to an unsecured networkHaving been brainwashed as children we must suspect ourselves alwaysDogged associations such as a clearing in the woods closing at the rate        of your own agingYour arbitrary name-sound wobbling in the same breeze        that makes it impossible to turn over a new leaf definitivelyYou can only step into the fraySee what happens in the ecosystem of responseThis may be prophetic pragmatismHow do we do together?Thus it’s hair-raising when ancestors grope mystically at my scalpUnion soldiers become Indian hunters, Protestant ministersIndecipherable womenCause permanent itchinessPast futures and future futuresMoth touchdowns have me putting up antennae again as delicate        landing pads open under a fingernail of moony lyric impulseEndless exploratory probingsThe inflammation of unpeaceful centuriesThe respiratory systemsNot breathing well at allThese forests, these streets