I saw grass as brother
it threw the husk
of dawn & the riddle – I began to speak in broken
syllable & the river blinked –
the boundaries of the sun have
begun its descent
slow, feral, full of the red that brought peace to ague &
power to eye, to limb –
there is a theory of open space
where clouds meet
kite & how meets the wailing why of happening –
no sun is closer to my face
than this sun – no buzz of an afterlife
is redeemed by sip of water
no dream is begun in memory
the sharp hindrance of forgetting –