…i gather up into
the any folds of my brain
-the winged
tidbits
of why;
the elite shells of
because
all of it
as if,seeds
scattered across pavement.
-now(
in the palm of
my hand
i carry them)
and will-
until i find
the edge of
peopled places
where( with all
the might i may
conceive(
i will hurl them
into the
wind…
shadows hunched
behind low
folded earth
hiding from the
gold moment
. sun
leaning towards
. evening
with
. patience, slow
as day into dark
orange into violets
paling blue
. like shallow
. water
over
giants sleeping
.there are-
. im
. pression
. s,
. [of
. tone]
. a
. n
. d
. purpose:
. in
. these
. sl
. o
. p
. ing
. fig
. u
. res
. sta
. l
. l
. ing
. slo
. (w) ly…
. the
. mak
. ingof
. und
. er st
. o
. o
. d
. th
. ough
. t
. way
. -s
. to
. portray
. fe
. e
. l
. ings
. for
. yo
. u
. to-
. (o) in
. t
. en
. se
. to-
. s
. p
. e
. a k
. clearly,
. in) t
. h
. e m
. o
. me
. nt(
. o
. f
. o
. u
. r
. (kiss)
. i can smell her
. seaweed
. beached and
. leaching
. fly magnets
. the sweet
. stench
. of dis[
. assembly
. the saltiness
. sticking to things
. once wet
. like the pale
. of her neck
.
. i can hear the rhythm of her
. heart
. as waves chew
. shells
. into sand
It is here in these mountains,
entrenched in the deep gravity of this place,
where at once you realize
that it is not you looking at the world, but rather
it is the world that is looking at itself through your eyes, and
together you weep for the intimacy of shared windows,
infinitely unique.
time and minutes go wandering
through morning above hovering
momenting over daisies that eyelashes
trip open ears to twigs and things to
thin under feet too weak to bridges
make across leaves letting days
eat holes in their togetherness
the sun is shy at near sideways
through windows (a)peering green
thick with voracious spring
leaping out into fields specific to seeds
from hands left in neat rows pleasing
eagles aiming shadows at tails twitching
nervous whiskers hop(p)ing when darkness
from ground leapt shall see the sun for more than never again
stone
steeple higher than
green forest crawling
over hillside
leaving grass to grow
on old shoulder earth
resting sky the color of
infant eyes filling spaces
between treetops combing
cotton from dawn
forgotten
