Fruit selection from the dark orchard
where the stories caught up to Alice
turning her a little sad her white
patent leather shoes on the algae
and cement of a church
in the hollow where rust
runs like blood from crusted hinges
underneath the biggest goddamn
juniper in the world where bones
in bear scat fertilize
the smoke of autumn’s passing.  

I needed to dream today,
and instead I just broke stuff.