Husk
by Colin Momeyer
As when in the family garden peeling the cucumbers
everywhere from the scalpel of the greater eye—restful,
were peeled openly infinite from alien cloud meadows
rivulets through us always. And told us each that drop,
ah, see—the splintering (not of the object) in the being
As when in the family garden peeling the cucumbers
un-alone, dwelled and not so this truth unnoticed
shouldered a heaven, always.
Colin Momeyer is a poet and multi-instrumentalist. He works in the field of mental health alternatives and resides in central Vermont. His music projects are available at http://tapehissrecords.blogspot.com