Status Updates From Return

I.
[From weeping into weeping]—

Sadness, when you come back for me, I’ll be among
the cornfields, wondering about crop circles,
long toes, my mother, and other alien things.

II.
A small column of light

I lived by a river that year and the water at night—it moved.

I could make my way through the grass.
Could my way through the grass be mine?

Make me thoroughly grassless.
My way through—the grass I make.

Wayless, grass through my making.
Throughout the grass—I could I could I could.

The grass is mine to make.
Grass, I couldn’t make my way through you!

Grassless me, away.
The way through me is to make me grass.

何處別魂銷？

My grandfather and I eat a steamed trout. We start with the meat on one side of the bone. When we finish, we flip the fish together, my chopsticks on the tail, his wedged in the hollow beneath its jaw. As we eat, moving towards the head, our language unhinges—his accent grows northern, bright on the second syllable; mine dissolves, mouth gone to water.

And in the blackest hour of morning my head calls back my body, like the bird that circles high above, singing 回，回，回。

"The birthday footage was recorded over that of my grandfather, and when I think of it now I still want to scream." Still crying

Google search: my sadness is_____ pg 13