Ant song

I met Revolution again the other day recalling how a younger me was 
          smitten by her fire & song      so now are you the peacock or the

Mountain? neither, she said, I am the dust that settled on the monkey's
          breath after your wars      will you then sear through our dreams as

Violet-green clouds of remembrance?   only the monkey's breath knows
          when your blanched sword melds with the colors of a million ants -  


sun draws not a single breach of song     carries over
       lucid breath of trunk & color      inches forth the
       grip of vapor, move of word, strum of earth -

sun forgets what it shone over      carrier of branch &
        home, humor & moan       inching away from 
        caliper & scale, it remembers mostly mirth -