the star describes her apogee
the constellations trace with vine
and dirt makes shapes that no one sees.
two hatpins dance a tango brief;
a matchhead gives a eulogy
before it bows to wax.
a branch begets a leaf, unhappily.
the morning to the wren is not bewèd
as on death the insects prey,
but wrens bewèd to song the robin,
and usher thus a sun
as pale as chardonnay.
a fruit bequeaths a seed to be a tree
which harvest reaps and lays to rest
in amniotic sleep.
there are gods inside a breeze,
who set the stalks and stems to dancing;
again the grain would hypotise
whose wings make waves a world away,
which, waking it, realise
the synergies of simplicities,
the font defines its flow
men drunk on liquid silver
cut their pointed teeth to slivers
on the edge of partial windowpanes;
in the ruin of their dentistry
creating snow in which to play,
in which the imprints of their feet remain;
their breathsmoke fades away.
Two together greet the sun
(defining thus the apogee),
and bind the incompletes to light.
They are such inseparably.