One of these days
I’ll turn into a rebellious wind
Rustling through branches and leaves
On the tree tops, the wings finned

Dashing into the heavens
Whilst slithering up the mountains
As whispering Brahmans
So, the thirsty river runs

5/9/2014

rickety  minutes twitch in wood stained cabinets;
mittens in a bin .  birch tones postpone in mauve
twilight... an unfinished diorama.
clandestine. a small glitch in a good rain... cabbages
smitten in mist.  a thirst groaning; long bones caw
fully reclined...  as timeless Brahmans.

old beams of light stack like gold bricks in a humidor;
mittens in a bin.  black  birds comb rogue stones then.... [ pause ]
triffids... blemish barnacles.
crystalline. a ball of lint in a storm drain... vanishes -
bitten out of sight.  at first, toning old gongs... wind
chimes... earth's most wanted.