as branches burn

the folded flesh remembers
the hard dead stratosphere

hours erupt
out of sudden familiar aromas

weeks limp their way through
old cluttered towers of dirty hands

the strange husk of a soul slowly lifts
above the raw public village

like a leaf
that winds never abandon

want

he wants the slow easing motion
of a dry standing woman
quieting her watery hair

she holds the carved edge
of this gentleman’s glance
as he lifts her from her sleeves

together they fall
forgetting everything else but down

now that your nails are polished

let your woman spill dark
         your nostrils flare

               let fingers erupt
                        stream silver

        let your lady’s aroma
flow sweet into              longing

stone susan stood still

her speech hidden
where  unfired  the blind reside

the light sat brilliant beside her
but lonely

involving visage after visage
easing his long shadows beneath her blouse

his whispers were laden with pollen
were stems calling sun back to the earth