Roads reaching over high hillsides

the edges of green lined ditches

glinting under a raw pink sky

bones thinking and toiling

before many pages and in the midst

of many upturned carts

the signature of divine hair

turned to divine disorder

or suggesting an eternal shape

as the ferns and their elder oaks

reach from dayfall's astral fur

in a parched canyon, and in reaching

invite a flood of sweet ink,

flowerpots of gathered mud

and quills from moon-fed fields

that penetrate the veins

engines organizing eggs

a fog with pincer hands

enveloping dreamless lands.