Paper and pencils made a birth:
Poetry that I once wrote her.
There's nothing we were holding down.

Nothing we were holding down.

I kept a favorite photograph

Of her and I in the tall dream grass.
And nothing here could take us down.
Nothing here could take us down.


Paper buried in the dirt:
It's all the poetry that I once wrote her.

It's something we were burning down.
Something we were burning down.


I lost my favorite photographs
Buried deep in the tall dream grass.
There's so much I am holding down. (So much I am holding down.)

There's so much I am holding down.