Half-titled

When thrust upon my own devices

I wander off and find myself

picking apples and dropping them

uneaten on the grass

or I find myself devouring them

from the trees, unplucked

and filling my wake with gaunt cores

gnawed heads nodding on the breeze.

We sculpt the world by holding it

leave the unheld to sculpt itself

and scupper the half-held, half-eaten

on half of its own devices.