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Homesteading 

Adrian Blevins | Poetry

I wanted to name the birds  
in my mind a little & maybe even  
call back to the owls, say who cooks  
for you who cooks for you through  
the open window can’t sleep a wink  
so why not screech. But wouldn’t  
that be retorting to nature I said  
sleepy to myself & wouldn’t that be  
futile if sort of hilarious & isn’t  
the problem here time anyway  
& what to do with its diminishment  
O & the body & where to bury it  
& that whole thing of the poor old soul  
& where it goes when it goes so yes  
I got stuck between the this & the that  
like rain I want to say in a pitcher  
on a platter in the rain rain rain rain rain.