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Kristin K. Withers

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 

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Kristin K. Withers

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.