I looked, I found violet
not a bird, a light wallowed
rebuilding by cleaning off things written on my hand
in the arms of a Pharaoh lions dangle sand
I sought in rupture at the shore
the days put her hand in mine
an effort fall of crystal trees and rock shells
river, a feeling extended pause
prisms release coded light
knowing what doesn’t relate is too long a walk
the discoverer not going anywhere or leaving the house
we set space around things that are emotional
colors of forgetting and holding frigid streams
startled by street, strayed in ambition
arrived somewhere that started in walking
where a brown light shot through interior windows
release of a feral horse
where I turn water window open to certitude
chisel on it again, rain for salmon
the pleasant blue held by knife
wave in paradise, woke and floated on chestnut feet
perception strikes as red cart
memory of the unknown
as book three feet away is a pile of paper bound
silk bone canary island repeated earlier
may or may not be a return back
with ink lions, bound to memory, sand to prisms
the peat road arcs through fingers in dictionaries
as fall is an effort of trees