Watching brain
circle its own cortex
like a drain
or top arena.
fervent try
tie back dead layers
of inward chest
shed willfully,
but involuntarily.
Meanwise,
The sands are
slipping from Our Lady’s
silver line, hooked by
how much of you is
already gone.
Mist and grit
pull for each other --
it’s been said
they gnash at the other
-- tighten, tense,
rip warp in
skyline.
edges of which
disintegrate away in
pixellating decay
sucks you in
chucks you East
loops me into
minute memory:
When I put The hand
before The mountain
salted knuckle before
top-off and
tree,
Articulation itself
couldn’t have pinned
me.
How does a seed of space
bloom? silently
First sound?
beats on me I
am blossoming mad.
I am timshel
rising mists and open water
Arc of Sun, Shadow of
Star
rotten mulch rosebud
and forgotten flag
I was out back.
Chromatics refracted
lengthwise
through grand trine,
modified
socket sublime. This side
of the mountain hangs
by scales improvised.
A scorpio rises
uncoveted, henceforth, with
short-ranged eyes.
and the “important”
decisions await.
Since the thickness buried
you,
dependency has forsaken
me. See,
I was out back.
chose remaining stretch
to gum up fingers’ edge,
soften my touch
make it last longer.
Meanwise, cops tug
along outside, slugs
No telling where you are,
but
you are warmer
than I think either
of us realized.
Isosceles Mountain,
isosceles hillside,
tonight, please keep me
in whisper
High Moon’s grace
heirloomed key to revelry
offered in all directions
at once, freely.
Sprout of space is
leaf-ing. still
too soon to say
if grasses will be silver
or gray.
And too far away.
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