we glide fields
wend the trees
crest the tor and
stretch wide mouths
to sing
this unpeopling
of ourselves celebrates
forest fires burning
inside our chests,
shriven
without names
these nature gods
shove hours aside
giving all to
heartwood
shed the wire
marking barbed against
soft flesh
and fly…
as we draw speechless
under growing hallows
full moon and mistletoe
summer gives to autumn
ol' john, he sentinels
green still in the barley
hiding us our shadow
away until the dawn
darning fingers cast weaves
for october is our song...
circling threes from trees
birch white paper of black
calling out his name
from the wending ways
a warden in the weald
we are flight we are free
bending skies to our own
shaking wood, twisting stone
to lay alone of earthwomb
wrapped in fevers
a fragment found.
a key —
head tilt and a shout,
a return to north winds
her face in the mirror
all mine not mine and
there is rust washing
to be done on old chains
in the barren playlot
she the me locking unlocking
six-paneled doors wood
of ghetto apartments
a gulag of memories jailed
rape is not right
not a right
but we, me and she
promise the no cry no more
come knocking,
come knocking
down the corridor
and i hold she as me
in our striped stained bed
crying hush to those
howling dogs of war
some times we chat all
others, silent stand tall
let gossip the pines
in trade on winds
bring on day
carry our night
bones given rain
featherfall out of sight
we gaze for winter
waiting spears...
every at thin
scrim width pale
carving night
into shadow
and moonlight
each wingbeat
of heart
rattlebone clacks
stone rumble taps
fingers at posts
point candled
for windowed
callers
exwearsted longday
at twinight tween
fingerpast pointning of
torrestorm electricness
glowning thrumbled
ribbeling over
direly roar
under her folds
her hands
her rain
under her under
returns her rains
again
she follows rain
books upon books
entry upon entry
fusty future histories
after her storm
rain rain her rain
underwear sitting
naked skin taut and all
head weary in shivers
i don’t want the long time
i don’t want the rub
sitting in wait
for her ever
i give myself to mud
the roads all fade
in the rearview
giant painted snakes
a mumbling past
ghosting away