Apr 2014
All's wet in the woods.
Big bets been placed and diced in them forests.
Austrian pines are never to be trusted–
I'm never to be trusted so much, too.
So much for them healthy spines!
That's a question mark if your frame ends a sentence.
So much for good times and good measure!
They plain-prohibited plants in the soil –
That there's my soil and we all share the sun.
Listen to that, son.
Shaking overhead.
Summer storms rumble loud.
All's loud overhead.
Calling it out, the thunder warns me so:
Wind in the trees!
Wind in the trees!
Rain on the grass and
wind in the trees!
Blades of grass where
wind only breathes.
Patterin' on grass–
Whooshin' through trees!
And what was first to fillin' the woods?
It was feet on the soil and toes in the sand.
Plants in the soil and bare feet in the sand.
Skinny boys have been dipped all skinny in streams.
Sun's been refractin' for years in them streams.
The night was borne of embers in winds and
blankets made out as whole as that sky.
Mountains breathing out across their own flat feet with
whispers in wind's breath humming through the blue mountain's teeth:
Drums in the woods
be drum-circlin' them flames.
Roots in the woods
done wrap-choked my heartstrings.
Beats in the wild
be drum-beatin' us tame.
Whips in the wild
done whip-shaped his heartstrings.
Never had I heard a call like that.
Howling and hopeful, hoping to be whole.
That mountain's been chipped all dusty in streams.
Them streams been runnin' across them whole-skins.
Howl and be happy.
Paint night-skies on his leg.
Brush them tendrils from them eyes,
howlin' and bein' happy.
I hear the wind and I wonder if cedar pines are to be trusted.
I feel the soil, chilled and wet beneath the grass.
The storm has passed overhead.
Smellin' green grass and mild mosses.
I'm seein' stars overhead.
Fingers runnin' across them foggy windows.
I think of the wind and the rain–
We will see.
*Wind in the trees!
Wind in the trees!
Rain on the grass and
wind in the trees!
Sorrow blows where
no man can breathe.
Rain patters on grass–
Wind in the trees.
Big bets been placed and diced in them forests.
Austrian pines are never to be trusted–
I'm never to be trusted so much, too.
So much for them healthy spines!
That's a question mark if your frame ends a sentence.
So much for good times and good measure!
They plain-prohibited plants in the soil –
That there's my soil and we all share the sun.
Listen to that, son.
Shaking overhead.
Summer storms rumble loud.
All's loud overhead.
Calling it out, the thunder warns me so:
Wind in the trees!
Wind in the trees!
Rain on the grass and
wind in the trees!
Blades of grass where
wind only breathes.
Patterin' on grass–
Whooshin' through trees!
And what was first to fillin' the woods?
It was feet on the soil and toes in the sand.
Plants in the soil and bare feet in the sand.
Skinny boys have been dipped all skinny in streams.
Sun's been refractin' for years in them streams.
The night was borne of embers in winds and
blankets made out as whole as that sky.
Mountains breathing out across their own flat feet with
whispers in wind's breath humming through the blue mountain's teeth:
Drums in the woods
be drum-circlin' them flames.
Roots in the woods
done wrap-choked my heartstrings.
Beats in the wild
be drum-beatin' us tame.
Whips in the wild
done whip-shaped his heartstrings.
Never had I heard a call like that.
Howling and hopeful, hoping to be whole.
That mountain's been chipped all dusty in streams.
Them streams been runnin' across them whole-skins.
Howl and be happy.
Paint night-skies on his leg.
Brush them tendrils from them eyes,
howlin' and bein' happy.
I hear the wind and I wonder if cedar pines are to be trusted.
I feel the soil, chilled and wet beneath the grass.
The storm has passed overhead.
Smellin' green grass and mild mosses.
I'm seein' stars overhead.
Fingers runnin' across them foggy windows.
I think of the wind and the rain–
We will see.
*Wind in the trees!
Wind in the trees!
Rain on the grass and
wind in the trees!
Sorrow blows where
no man can breathe.
Rain patters on grass–
Wind in the trees.
