Fresh milk sky
ghost in booming shoes
zig-zagging the upward path
in rock through the mountain
hands cupped for water
at a cleft in the rock
moss broken and cloud cut
flowing through the hollow gestures
investing a mighty wind
in the feeding mouth
and loins lingering
to search the shattered
doorway for a dance
legs juke and disposition wide open
for the fires of earth to hammer a cymbal with
straw bones and vacant eyes humming with space
a scarecrow for my own mirror
lipsticking testaments to a sand cave
running through hats and haircuts
wedded to a box of metal on rubber wheels
pursuing mercy with broken wings,
yet having flight in mind,
stuck to the frame I have carved and crafted
vibrating with gemstones and failed utopias
shop worn loves
and gloves left on the chopping block.