scrape. grind dirt into my hair. hairs sticking out of dirty arms. rough textured knuckles. skinning slide across the lichen sandstone. crown dirt mingling in mind towards fungal advance. running crumbling in towards the edge of the hemlock wet with dew smell of dried stone and wet earth tumbling down the scraped sides. moss covered arms. eyes looking out of cobbles cracked around the edges by rain and wind.

March 2008