Porch – by Ryan Morris

drift off floating dark in cosmos,

  there  is atoms a blood bonding

                   co-gently into potent

     argent state – a wake

sit frosting      on the bottom step

rest asleeping over carpet,     stars

    each corner eyelid winking out

there are mountains rise

         and crash in under waves

wind a whirring echo drum

tap in cupping ears wooden

          hallways, scary

open door

       to cellar

there are slopes, steep in

blurry kettle water

       glitters in dew spittled morning drip

monsters undersleep my bed, certain

sameness                            to everything

earthtones cracking shape

                  made winter surely as

perceived the summer guns

             (tit sun-stained

                    and also ivory,

sunk walkably to kettle, spilled

a skipping mug w/ each sixth step &

out of earshot,          it begins to snow