O height dispersed and head
in sometimes joining
these sleeps. O primitive touch
between fingers and dawn
on the back
You are no more
simple than a cedar tree
whose children change
the interesting earth
and promise to shake her
before the wind blows
away from you
in the velocity of the rest
Oak oak! like like
it then
cold some wild paddle
so sky then;
flea you say
"geese geese" the boy
June of winter
of again
Oak sky
This is the second day without anyone.
I am chinning against a dark sky
to strengthen my arms.
A picture of everyone I love passes through me.
No clear light streams thru this cell.
There's no dawn.
What have I gained
by lying in this abyss,
waiting for the masonry
to show a little slit
for my soul to get through?