the long legged lungs of city clouds,
the turmoil that comes of starry puddles
polluted like wild flowers on city streets,
the organization of december boughs
on the day before it snows,

it’s true the heart with fiery levers
propounds what it sees,
be it the color of a spring suitcase,
i tell you, the heart meddles in the fantastic and the simple,
be it the color of spring,
or the organization of december,

on the broad shouldered effort of aboriginal joy,
the bravery of dusk is spring
unspelling birds of moonlight

do you kid with sunsets
and sweep the moonlight
for your friends the shadows

sweep the moonlight free
of its last cliffs

do you kid with snowy nights
the distance of silence have you found
how you measure
raindrops in spring trees

raindrops that have no volume
other than light and time

do you kid with apples and afternoons
the dimensions of the soul
do you ask what can be made of the heart
that is simple and brave

the dimensions of the universe
that do not know fear or love

life means settle for less
due away with the wind
before it satisfies your face
of its wild silences

life means
pay cheaply
and ignore it

throw away the beginnings of light
sit calmly and make misery of your ledgers

a sitcom of tears
is cheering
for your demise
you will have everything to do with their name calling