In the wild spots where few or
no people live, the places blow
about, blurred. The desert shiftssome of its cells. Water lifts a little,
sinks. No pine needles fall, then,a pine needle falls, four more. Here
no one knows what truth is escaping.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).