Charred banks of being,
ribs in the soil springing keys
harps with blueberry strings
long paths winking with holes and water
stalk shooting out of the ground
with green and pink buds
offering spikes of violent yellow flowers
to hands that are many and mine,
from swerves in air like water
and tender hooks snaking on flying wheels,
countenances in rock and barking miles
stuck to the life of wood and shingled tar
running electric wires to a sweet snatch
to be buried in sparks
and waffle mattresses,
wire hair.