move on    move out
into a new blue opening
of the air   /   sky above
the mountains there   cut
by living water rush
down to the fruiting earth below

sun lasts through perennial
cold scars the air
renews its moves
fruit sweetens the very rush
sky's opening behind
these mountains

scribbled against the fading
bright blue blanking
dusk come into
the bowl of sand
crisscrossed by human
intention   /  denial writ thin

in fading ink lines
dim toward dusk with sand's
visible crissed fever
near the prior blue
that underlies intention
human and thin

and walking always along
the felt lines of song
's call through atmospheres
of clear intent   /  new
universes shimmer hotly
into being with each sung note

each point of feeling
shines through likely song
during the walk gleaming
into being sung to shimmer
as intention frees thought
with and from the body

dance   legs akimbo
jump jump the lines
felt only never
seen   /   shimmer
in tension against worlds
thought into being over again

stretch shifts shimmering world
view includes the seen
akimbo bounty glow across
again jumped dance its gem pace
steering tense when
gestures at last melt

into thin air    again
again the world squeezes
through the heatwaves
flowing across high
ways to new dream
paths danced against the stars

living approximately beside
imagination in possession
of its own flow dreaming across
thin to never-needed air
for anymore paths gleam themselves
to be danced to in around

along  on  toward
off beaten drumways
hollow logs beating
under the slowly darkening
leaves last light
gleaming in each blown turn

a constant tone
the drum logs turned
to face west or
the darkness when and if
off leaves each
beat glows forward

beating   beats
into the coming dark
last light gleaming
fitful rhythm flicker
mauve pulse strumming
leaves branches rustling

timbre subtle between
flickering insistent
maple tones
motions in light
the pulse defining
thrum of leaves

a dying fall   the tones
slow show dance
downed and scattered
shuffle shift cymbal steps
crack hide paths   cloud
gathering what will come

plumbago presses through fall
blue flowers sturdy  small
near eye light  cymbal
and taut hide continue
toward dreams to come during
the cleanse of hibernation

rocky rivulets criss
cross the cavern
cast bluelit ripples
of light upon the curving
walls waiting snowfall
sleep the long dream of spring

thinning seasons gesture to
the curves from here to stars
concurrent with the blue in
snow light just against
the atmosphere above its
long and present sleep

under such tiny light
shine snowglow
mirror of spheres turning
into lost histories of
wars still running fire
into each small home brokedown

the small is where each
ingredient of history is felt
the glow of tiny light
and snow repeating itself in fore-
ground of war's resemblance to trickle-down
only with raging fire

as it enters a low doorway
with a swirl  a bow perhaps
the gentleman caller hitting
the high notes    burning
burning    come to the city
gone down to salt sown

how easy is the hearing
of these notes called low
how gone to gentle are the entry-
ways / burned recollections
salting the storehouse of
door frames aswirl with city lives

even under fire    bomb
sites inverted into sub
marine crush   the city lives
its stunned folk will it
will step out from broken frames
into the burnt light of dawn

memory accumulates and then
disintegrates / a city
becomes the crush of all these
similar and dissimilar
ingredients that light
the stunning versions of the afterfire

in which the stunned survivors
stare alert and wonder
where the buildings went
the children almost play
in ash and broken plinths
scarred black and still falling

survival costs play / costs wonder
costs stones / forming
the numbness to endure
trades nerves in skin / the buildings
may be there though not
felt / scars erase the child in each

stoned moment survival
demands  /  a way
to clamber away
through rubble /  skin
ned knees and arms hold
emptiness out as a gift

now thousands who were paid
earn what little from collecting
empty bottles / plastic things
that qualify / work hours
are the dark hours / people
on their tiptoes reaching into trash bins

scuttling down into craters
scattered with such televised
precision patterns across
a city once full of
the lived movement
moment matter made igneous

mere touch once
full of smoothness
and lived privately
scattered now into captured acts
turned moments spattered
into scavenging

caught sudden in savage
glare above    whirring blades
(blades!)  hold perception aloft
targetting new possibilities
how sentimentality courses
bright colors across screens

coexistence (peaceful as a thought)
the softer dream minus
targets caught in blades /
back away from sentiment
bright posses limn then splay
the screens the streets in color

almost black it runs anyway
in what once was home
blasted heath  /  broken
heather   the flowers
bloom not further than
the suddenly bright green screen

home full of screens in layers
various / unbroken blooms
trace green vines across
the almost sudden showings
of the breeze and repertoire
of distances available

to see from  /  to know
as if from   / such information
s a nation's call to arm
the man forget
ing all others sideswiped
by whose history's casualties

amnesia thought to be a gift
extinguishes first
the sides of stories
followed by the stories themselves
until a casual assemblage what was
seen ceases to be recognized