wild to the river flooding
the creases of your left palm
hold nothing but melt
like mountaintops in summer
stretch to the solar moons
in sight, out of mind
at dawn and stay quiet
for the crickets at my feet
in bed all knowing
secrets like the one
in white webs you tangle
gold, gold around my bones
swollen eyes every time
orange beams move through
ten hour intervals or
maybe i'm wrong and
cats stay still in a frenzy like
statues of blind men watching
the crowd bleed dew and slip on
nerves inside out
littered by dust from
your teeth grind
dreamy and drowsy octave
wash out the frozen pupils
of foggy noir
opposite magma that
when you create this sleep
skipping breaths for beats
at night you are alive
(and the woods talk back)
.
