pin me down on a bale of hay
set me on fire with oil
still I come up like water
from the earth
crying like an alphabet.
Curves of pine coated roads
eating machines and metal grass
an angel of death in soft smoke
wick of the candle's end
high on ephemeral hilltops.
I melt sand to catch
your glass in deeper glass
I sculpt the mountainside into
a spaceship's window
this moving portal's
gunshot of light
plays with my bones
I follow its birth
to a stone seed
to the bronze spray dancing on wood
in the flower of surrounded hours
where her flash of eyelash is a waterfall
and the sky has gravity's balls.
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