obtuse 
Vida Cooper-Carroll


stony eyed on the road to roseville,
rich takes to saying that ain't no life to be living.
a thousand minds intact, in need of respiration.
senseless figures drift in and out of the mountains in search of solace.  
where he visits nanette day,
skin, bones, and nothing.
what have we been through?
overhead, an eagle swoops me up and carries me in its beak.
i go back to alta bates,
i lie like a banana peel on the sidewalk.
and through this all correlation is on my tongue.  
deep in my abdomen, a forest of seaweed.  
the end; the sabbath after you were born.
month to month digging into the ground for savior.

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