Good fences make good neighbors
pure water flows from the spring
down and around the hill
gently trickles through
the neighbors pesticide scrapheap

The whistle pig warbles his truth
Azazel’s charming creature of the deep
mocks our efforts to will the barn to stand
porous tunnels of doubt
and time tugs it into the ground

And Lilith
calls, calls, calls
far from the coast
calls me to the quarries
concentration powerless to contest
feet moored in the muck
ankle deep regret

familiarity breads discontent
I once knew so much in impudence
and then not so much in doubt
and now don’t know what I don’t know
in confidence