Eryn Green



Abode (like the man said)

What they lack in love they lack
No longer simply quarter
For soldiers
But fodder
Food for others
Who come after
the horizon. Who
Knows. Invitations
Write more
Dear love




Abode for Brushy Bill

I see all 16 points
of correspondence. I see a thousand
stars inside and through the clouds.
I don’t want my cloud to understand
anything. I want a cloud
that disappears
into other clouds
that disappears




Abode for Jack

After you died all there was
was scars. Keys to the river
to a refuge
of arches and stars
all of us
by the goose in the window.
Buried with the story of your death
is a mudhole
in time. A moment rich
to teething with uncertainty
and none of the shackles
of history
What good is it
to be an outlaw
if everybody knows you exist