Mouth to mouth this rock

takes back that light

the sun grew fat on


though birds gag in it

still part their wings

not yet the ashes


that run through you

let their last breath

reach under you, hold on


till nothing’s left

except the shadow

the dirt counts on


--you don’t dig anymore

afraid more darkness

will escape, unfold


as in midair

the slow wide climbing turn

into mountainside


unaware how long it’s been

--you sift, lean over

the way this tiny rock


is pulling you closer

wingtip to wingtip

is swallowing you


as if one by one

its feathers had opened

--in time, in time.




apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3


24 poems by simon perchik