I cannot hold you, deep rhythm,
like fireflies caught this moment like a grain innumerable

the sun slips through my broken window,
and I wash the silence with birds.

Stalks

Stalks of corn blow in the wind.

I run through you, cutting

my naked arms,

bare legs

on your leaves.

The sun like

warm bread

wraps around me.

My smile spreads

the pale blue sky.

Freedom runs through me.

I am part of the land.

I stop before

a totem:

a corn stalk laced with ice,

silent, unmoved,

too angry for the wind to touch.

I melt a moment

and tears spring like so much grass

after the snow thaws.

broken color

world finds nothing smart

like fireflies turning

the page rosy

instead, we break into

mud rush fish

swim the ether

cords tangle until knots

form like fetuses

yellow, empty belly

tears limp inside, ask

to get out

crystalline salty ringers

trigger dashes water away

dismantle finger pieces,

discover blue wilts

like tarnished tiger lilies,

their dusty faces

remembrances or translations

of orange-ginger grain;

their texture pushes

against the slate

words slide into some

dirty water, disintegrate

into wholeness again.