We are receiving the same mail. Threads of silk drip in the cave fishing and sinister, the glowworm has an appeal. Limestone towers and their holes are evidence we were un der water. Passages go on for miles where bugs play with guano mounds. A title takes a being.
Fireflies fly with drooping bodies
Purses or ripening penis
Haul along
Just being carried
By the dusk.
Against the dark
Their inkblot
Skeletons
Hanging and pointing,
Wobbling and then lightening.
A central spark in the dust.
Cells, I am thinking,
Do not rule by nucleus
But by shell.
I am leaving again. I am moving. I am nature walking.
Oh, I have frightened
A deer, caught its white behind
Darting beyond the bush.
Although Sami Jo
Has said the deer
Is the modern unicorn,
I am not so sure.
Does the mulberry droop similarly
As tiny tiny grapes sucked together
The favors
Fall into my fingertip
And in the mouth melts and tastes
Somewhat like nothing.
Rather like rain.
What kind of creature is this?
Whose candy offers
The occasion -
A cluster A flavor
Occasionally.
I must have been pulling with interest
To have picked the watery ones.
They looked so purple,
So dusk-like,
So compliant in the fading day.
Whereas the unified mind
Of mine dissolves too, disappears, darts off
Into the bush,
Into the night’s dinner
The flood disaster
The men dying in a tourniquet.
The poem will go
Alighting the whole
And pliable body.