The Feeling Objects Are Few

This is ridiculous, of course.
Objects sprawl all over the place—
This evening, middle of nowhere,

Shows an enormous range of stones,
From sand grains through gravel, boulders
Through two-thousand meter mountains.

There are houses flanked by parked cars
Of various makes and models.
BBQ ovens. Folding chairs.

And yet it feels a bit bereft.
The lizards and birds aren’t objects.
The weeds and cared-for succulents

Aren’t objects, and of the staked trees
Only stakes and wires are objects.
The trees aren’t. The trees are alive.

So much life and so few objects.
You started a revolution,
But there’s still a long way to go.