the grief of the grove

i-
I ring a large scream that every tree
will sing

to the squirrels who shall forget to die
that season –

next year, the undead will carve out
an eagle’s

notes on the heads of the fallen song
& cry & cry –

ii-
In the grief of the grove lies
the sullen

bark – take it away and the
sun will

melt your sheen your idea of
tear &

giving birth – the sun as
mother

the sharp hindrance of forgetting

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 –

the salt and the spear

i-
The salt and the spear
begin
    to wonder
    to woo to

walk – unshaken the spilt
part
    wonders too
    who to

call wind as the spear
knits
    wonder, knits
    wood into

salt

—

ii-
Large is the willow’s red – it is sound it is near – how near? as
your reach is bound to wrist to hip, that near – small is the
swollen sea – how small? as your paw is yearn is seen, that small –