What begins as an echo
turns out a conclusion
an obtuse impression of self-sufficiency
in a home away from two
in the redwood canopy
These berries are good said
she in the thick interior
of a train wreck realized grammatically
as nothing more than a ping
in a darkened kitchen
whose folk let night redound
privately
to a sound in the mind
marketing itself as direct experience.
We know it as sleep
and go there.