three for mcrb
by Kristin Lueke

fist to my middle finger

stand up or be
collected friend.

say nothing
that doesn’t improve
the odds

we all survive this.

taxonomy

black locust growing from a rock pile.
coyotes singing to witch my dog.
a cat called big dave & a string of dead finches.
every living thing thinks it belongs there.
in october the ground thickens with seed.
it’s a difficult dream—buying nothing.
we’ll find what we need where we are.
i am the animal who believes.

the animal learns

another way to say
the problem
of another mind
is another mind’s problem.

when i grew up i wanted
to feel every feeling known
to what’s knowing. i wanted
to be the sea.

you can feed a man a fish,
if you want to eat
an evening.

behavior on its own says
nearly nothing about thought.

Kristin Lueke is slowly burying her feet in northern New Mexico. She’s the author of two chapbooks and a sick ass newsletter, with poems in HAD, Sixth Finch, Maudlin House, Bullshit Lit, Always Crashing, etc etc.