Its vision is of light and air
Breath drowning in silver light, hinged on
Sleepy shimmers under an eye
Rolled back against seeping white
Black shelved into the horizon
Where the stream puddles to pond
Troubled is the old man, telling
Outside the door in the wolves steady howls
Shape fading behind cottony grays
Sprung and knocked over metal coils
A higher tide, soothed
Shattering clay on rocks, pulled deeper
In fleshy embraces, noise
That sometimes sings of a better world
Even out there, behind screens
And loosening rabbit ears
Forgetting, in trembling clouds
As punishing and soft as the gods
Crumbling stony path, ripe fertile dirt
Meaning in yellowing green, slithering
Gnawing, beastly boneless mouth
Of the anti butterfly
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