Figure Drawn on the Ground as the Bull Moose Urinates Upon Waking

One must not overlook the trace marks, strayest,
or the leach tree in full radar. How

the unforeseen trails, leading, grooves a nest
among villas of salvage
where gleaning is melt,

a spool of vine & slather. Spiraling
even so, splashchips swallowing nuthatch,

its whawhawant, its cling & vlirp. Meanwhile —

rear tined, bore buttered — some forever unsilences
in wiregrass tongues. But who seeks to divide

so as to nourish? Who, so as to hide, grinds
ought for worms to cast? There,
in the peninsulas.

Evidence as a molten weaning. Once
we had known the eighth kind

of starting over from seed.

Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com

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