Jesse Nathan

     His noiseless blooming in the callous earth. I followed
a dry-bone branch, spiderweb-cracked, off the Running Turkey. 

There’s a moment—barely—when you see both
ocean and bay from the 280 as it mills north
near Millbrae, the waters flash what they know
of daylight, and you register being a sort of gliding porch
before dunking back under cypress