Nate Klug

This early the garden’s bare but people pay to walk it, at plots of budless brush stop, as if remembering, and stoop to mouth the names— araucaria araucana, monkey puzzle tree, something Japanese—each particular ridiculous to be.

To stand for once outside my faith to steady it caught and squirming on a stick up to mind’s inviting light and name it! for all its faults and facets or keep waiting to be claimed in it

In the middle of December to start over to assume again an order at the end of wonder to conjure and then to keep slow dirty sleet within its streetlight