moving awkwardly
in the summer of
idolatry.
The body made
memory more
vivid
than the declaration
in wood no
deeper excavated.
The calm pool;
followed the grain
drank mead
follow the swallow
of reeds moving
sickly from
their stems, their
roots beneath
them. Agrestic
motions fade
and grow;
flow the way the oceans flow.
That fight felt
deeper after fire,
moved, but went
nowhere. The gist
Soft tee-shirt not
bought, but found
later. And wear it
for no reason, but
old cotton
on flesh.
The great wake
up, hungover it seemed
then without drink
and no sense
of additions, no
medicinal herbs,
no primrose.
