Ferocious in the clutch of pink and green

thorns and petals in a stream of fists

opening into feathered fingers

the sky is a sphere

the trembling movements

of squirrels on powerlines,

pines creaking in the disturbed breezes

hawks calling over indifferent deer.

Where was I going?  The stores are closed.

I walked offroad and into the heart

of an inhabited rose.  The small depths

change you, the big depths rearrange you.

Sidereal epiphanies come soaring

through dark matter, apartments are arranged

into People's Mansions.  Utopia is crawling

on my bones.  How did it get here?  I got lost.

I lost everything, and everything was gained.

These blades have learned to paint.

This glue is filled with seeds.

This emptiness is almost all I need.