Monday, August 19, 2013


Birds from beak to tail rejoicing across the hydroelectric
stripped trunks of beach-long trees
strung like broken ice-thread
across the shorelines, arabesque
gateways lichen-eaten concrete
flick bars of sky and ridge, I sit
in the depths of a pine island
while walking across a bridge
to feel many old hometowns
burning just behind hills
whose tops I will not reach
to watch the coal and then
the excremental orchestra
go to work, the slick
sheaths of crawling bugs
and lipstick fingers reaching
from rubble to paw
scorched fragment of scripture.

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