Dare you eat a peach? [Reupped b/c you simply can't live w/out it.]
The radiant prayer of steel bursts between your ears. There it is, outside of sorrow. Inferior to the click beetle.
Things that have poured, of light. That were born in soft legs and the rain that no longer rains. Into the arc lamp above, the "crazed moon." When it arrives and wraps.
Wraps the ocean? The shape of a poem. And horses, larvae. The dung peacefully eating its surroundings.
The quick leaps have a fire!
You would like to stand yourself up, as humans did, long ago. Without gazing and is not here. To think poems are always thunderclouds with our blind eyes and folded branches. Fog descending stairs?
Wonder what kind of deranged scratch marks resist dyed "Chinese" signs, food displays, the right to read in any order? Shy twitch where the leaf mulch spreads.
Poetry continues to differ from what people believe the bar tilts, a cheerful hustle, the spirit torn apart by the swirl it's just lived through.