O Infinity

—suppose still—

inside a blue and fleshy lure

but of being and skinned

walking through a greenery

the self, the figure speaks

for all the bodies: needles, petals, fur

“we” suspect open power lines

—energy surges through the water—

suffering into anonymity a truth

“we” will orbit “we” orbiting “we”

voicing the threshold, the embrace of song

each note sings bright so

the loss moves as one and speaks

like shadow puppets—green

is a place that is also a song erotic

all of the leaves broken from trees

sing here in this song the voice

spools as thread unloosed to

safety, found never alone

the song is always the song

sung simultaneously by all

The Trees

in the dark an earth unformed

formed so from the wing the world

ends you see its round cusp

ghost husk ellipses collect

each in an envelope

the viol dictates the song

a cryptographer a mask maker

wing in the arcade even now homeless

light lifts a candle and rubs

the sulfur out on my tongue

I already know the taste

of carbon—bodies—but

when it burns out cleave

these sever and hollow ways no longer

of the world in the world

lights a tremor in the body wave

inside the skin knows a falling

into a dust bowl’s pink halo

do you think Apollo whispers

to the daffodils

or the dandelions never mind

I saw something once

that made me forget

a rainbow how you can’t touch

it or fog

gone by midmorning the flowers

white lilies on the pine

boxes grow old all grow old

trying to remember light

from 10,000 feet—

how does it do that still

glow orange alive and grow

the halo is gone now

even the light can die

it’s boring the streets full

of protective blossoms

umbrellas that gasp into

opening wings in expectation

of breeze ever noticed the inside

of a bird’s wing eagles reveal mottling

flamingos a blast of night

these rooms are mine what do you think

strange weird beauty all of the private

horrors I want to know my shame

forgiven in the sun stark raving naked

with fig roomfuls of fig and dark

and crowds of trees burn a warning

on the mountainside scotch burns

a throat full of goldening I want

song to torch the curtains see each flame

on each undertow glowing rise

a starting over in ritual

sacrifice the apple bark and leave

the husk this what’s lift in blue

what lies false in a palm

the whorls of fruit feels sour

pressed against a chest plate

threadbare and easy to parse to

look inside the creak of old stairs

seek air and breathe now for fire

lungs are weird and crows

murder the air with wings

and cries a serrated consonant

throat stretched blood

blooms in a sunbreak

in an unblooming time there

two twined trees and naked limbs

clear in the blue a welcoming freeze

people forget people want

to forget