Scattered notes for poetry 1

Nobody did anything wrong

Not the rains nor the clouds, nor the tartness of the pie, nor the organisms in the berry tree.

The oscillating unison of seasons pasts, our lightbulb in the sky, we all lay on it at night, my way of saying what I couldn't say.

We're not programmed to not know. We just don't know.

The recipe calls for it, commanding lead, warm bed, warm heart, a therapist.

Anointing yourself with your fellow needs, the sovereignty of the berry tree, a mountain of butter, an ocean of life.