tangle like reasons.upon the hoary
forest floor.as pad-turned feet
s w e e p
across the
carpeted multitude of soft
spines discarded beneath us
/
/and until better shelters are found
/
these low hanging boughs swing like the
uncrossing of legs:and we are left shimmeringintheslimymoonlight

we
race.against the wheeling constellation-
fragment as it penetrates
the wind-caught canopy, engulfing us_and
we dare it to
tumble
down
like
a
prophesy upon our dream-concussed heads.



webs of sinew.trailing between our
teethy=mouths

like a trap for the
world.


like a hope-nest hunt.

and the rolling drums in yet deeper places
   gun down the
Night