Kristin K. Withers: Windchimes In A Root Cellar
Windchimes In A Root Cellar
wiping throat to ear
I was identifying things – father, fog,
the swan – by the act of negating
there is a large black box // we are all inside it
covenant and a generative angle tracing
& at times I find myself not far from the harbor
having little visions as jurisdictions
& having died almost quietly my body is
not somebody but it
is
figuring
& vernix warp
& weft, yet deft
in the dimness there were
windchimes in a root cellar
sirens in screaming scent
wiping throat to ear
Kristin K. Withers is a poet currently residing in the Pacific Northwest. She has been an industrial sewist, coffee roaster, bookseller, realty & teaching assistant. Disciplined in analytic philosophy her interests focus on epistemology & the metaphysics of consciousness. Her poetry appears at The Inquisitive Eater, High Shelf Press, Cathexis, Sons & Daughters, Chiron Review, Waxing & Waning, SCAB, Paragon, & elsewhere. She is currently bending nocturnes & working a collection of autoscopic language poetry.