Like Change
︎︎︎ Brandon Shane
︎ July 25, 2026
After thirty years steady I died this spring
bones flocked under bird jowl towards autumn
reborn sometime in July red wine red terracotta
harbor clouds dock the ocean—It took trains
and Japanese countrysides hopping moonstones
along anonymous rivers and ponds sun-dried,
the mornings transition like branches
at the top of a canopy the walls here require stucco
I lick their silhouettes to a thin dampness sore tongue
sore throats misused offices and parking lots ferns
undoing floors of paper mountainsides
leaves dripping with warm rain
managing green still mosquitoes hidden in figs and again the quills
the lessons from my death and the quietude the hills
roll another ticket another train another accidental
sleepless night clothed then naked learning
a first language disrobing an old friend
while home has changed from hauntings
to a new face and another place and then
a feeling corroborated by other feelings
dropped like change—
into a wishing well full
and granting no wishes.
bones flocked under bird jowl towards autumn
reborn sometime in July red wine red terracotta
harbor clouds dock the ocean—It took trains
and Japanese countrysides hopping moonstones
along anonymous rivers and ponds sun-dried,
the mornings transition like branches
at the top of a canopy the walls here require stucco
I lick their silhouettes to a thin dampness sore tongue
sore throats misused offices and parking lots ferns
undoing floors of paper mountainsides
leaves dripping with warm rain
managing green still mosquitoes hidden in figs and again the quills
the lessons from my death and the quietude the hills
roll another ticket another train another accidental
sleepless night clothed then naked learning
a first language disrobing an old friend
while home has changed from hauntings
to a new face and another place and then
a feeling corroborated by other feelings
dropped like change—
into a wishing well full
and granting no wishes.