The first thing I see this morning:
photo of a graveyard.
Two stones stand out
more clearly than the others. On one,
the word “Berry.”
On the other, “Father.” I tell myself
it’s a portent of how
the day will go, that this is how
today is going to be:
random messages, written in stone,
any meaning to be drawn forth
by the viewer who right now
is seeing one sweet word,
one less so, and nodding his head.
Dark Matter 