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— Yet sitting with so little
blood leaving me to cause this fatigue , on top of the picnic table my ankles
are now over its
precipice of
at the air over its edge over even the hollow circular and flat thin stalks and
grass blades growing fast
with so much speed
no hurry
I can see beneath my feet kicking into the summer
air — — looking up from underneath in front of the on-
rushing speed of a cloud throwing its first thrust-shudders over the top
edge of the mountain like I thought
a
spreading out
of the unlawed — up from underneath its
white cloud edge , especially harvested by all
these fir and spruce and aspen
and pine
top edges jutting fragrant fierce with
hot smell ( spill –
outs of
their seeds )
growing the indent-
ing of the mountain in their evergreen to
blue
tone – scented modulatings , taperings , moorings
which
the
now big cloud passing over
also harvests
push –
ing some kind of lawlessness
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along — — ( up from
my feet I’ve stopped kicking , or now forget to kick ,
underneath
the great white cloud moving
at varying and breakneck speeds — Which I
imagine
is unlawed though I am not
moving — imagine
moving out from its nature but it
is not a
law passing over the air waves the satellite dish the
meta-
llic meticulous signals , , ) — I am
losing
neither a
little nor a lot
of blood — over the dropped-
down landscape thundering along its applause
sounds its green to brown to amber under-
neath feathering along its before-fatigue intricacy , which harvests the
let me come closer in —
&
the sun , a windfall enabling so much of it
roving the mountain from almost its very beginning to
its
very present height , the world surges
as world against , then dives
out from into air and the lightflow at
its fast
one &
only speed all smashing into
what looks like a lumpy eternity , me and the black
summer
fly in
its engines , a repose in the
windflow and in its
bumping up
against ?
And in its bumping up against.
Though , I think
it is also
mortal , of
moving , of collision ,
of chance
encounter
until their currents , until their
wakes
let
you in , let you through —
Previous published in IN the BEE LATITUDES, (University of California Press, 2012).