the mountains stand with thickness
they stand out behind my house
i hear them thinking out there
thinking just summer or winter
they think on them flowers and
rivers and i think them purest
magic with whom i collude with
on hoary frosted eves i plunk
through the neat lips of trees
about the mountains hard mouth
i trundle and mutter with the
naked boughs of them those
straight moon piercing oafs
they cut her pretty waxing *****
into finite lovely ribbons
and i fold them 1x1 into my
soul, i gather up the loose
strength of the moon's hair into
my palm and sticking it in my
pocket i heft my sturdy frame
back to where i left my car sleeping
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 1:16 AM UTC
the mountains stand with thickness
they stand out behind my house
i hear them thinking out there
thinking just summer or winter
they think on them flowers and
rivers and i think them purest
magic with whom i collude with
on hoary frosted eves i plunk
through the neat lips of trees
about the mountains hard mouth
i trundle and mutter with the
naked boughs of them those
straight moon piercing oafs
they cut her pretty waxing *****
into finite lovely ribbons
and i fold them 1x1 into my
soul, i gather up the loose
strength of the moon's hair into
my palm and sticking it in my
pocket i heft my sturdy frame
back to where i left my car sleeping
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