juniper and piñon ground up and pressed into tiny bricks

we are all in
the house
together at the same
time. all of us
in the house
together. the house
has not yet been
built. the house is
still stone, un-dug.
the house is a
negative space of
rock. the house
is still forest, standing
trees. the house
is being built. we
are in the house
together and
the house is in
the process of being
built. there is no
house for us
to be in, together.
there is no more
house. standing
stunned and silent
on hard packed dust.
a white sun
in a bleached sky above
us. we are all
in the house, all of
us together.

we’ve no interest in
platitudes, no
interest in placation.
ours is a colony
of unsettlement. ours
is a putridity of
beasts. the house
is not standing.
the house is still
standing. the house
is always standing.
the house never
stands. we are
always together
in it.