Cold dust made from fire.
Folded alms baked with ire.
Take a bow when the lights
are no more that where we
will go; to be one with cloud
Cry to a beaked wonder on
tips where the smoke groans
to an already grey sky. Lift
the terracotta and weep; find
each layered, bug-ridden mound
Breath fresh at the freedom and
be bold to be new again; indigo in
its haste. The seeded birds make
such frightful light and play in
the spilled seed that remains of us
Rough
scratch
Light this up
scratch
And pay to the crown
scratch
Solstice are the weights that we own
scratch
Like pins when we grin
scratch
Cast a net that is beyond the realm
scratch
Palpitate
scratch
Find health and means
scratch
scratch
Make yourself be clean
scratch
scratch
Lock down; be still
scratch
scratch
scratch
Drink wine and thrill
scratch
scratch
scratch
scratch
Roll away at the qualm
scratch
scratch
scratch
scratch
See that pain through a palm
scratch
