
here i stand
before a wall of box—
a cardboard mountain fox—
my transient life mourns home
with the passing ticks and tocks
of rootless, relentless, moving clocks.
POET’S NOTE:
Part of The Rutted Road collection.
Today is T-0…move day. So, if I seem a little sketchy in my reading or replying over the next several days, please forgive me. I’ll be back into a steadier rhythm once the boxes stop multiplying. 😅📦
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.




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