day w/ landscape

i searched for flies to hold. hand inside hand.
my fists like ripe apples. autumn in an ice box.
milkmen drinking syrup. the hills stopped sleeping
years ago & now all they do is cough. 
valley where the buttons go to become beetles.
there's no one to tell me i'm not just 
a stone collecting moss. dig in earth for mirrors.
every one of them empty. our souls were feed
for race horses. they ran to pieces. we try 
to get them back. stained glass lake. 
saints on the edge brushing grubs from their hair.
i manage to find a spoon. i swallow it for safety.