& look at this it is iris-clean sheets wearing the thin knuckles of light which curl in clumps

fluff has no borders

clouds make lines dance

a dancer quiets the console of crowd, the bearing blossoms,

always a flower seeks its dancer, too,

love which wears blue & white as its

colors

I chose the colors today

black & rose-red,

this bleeding went from hip to head,

& my thumb made limp statues

of bold steel

molded steel

 

sorry about that pause

sorry for the gap in the language

sorry for the flower which does not dance

sorry for the mist which does not have color nor density

sorry for the temple and the bridge and the spine which hangs over the river

sorry for capturing the speed of spiraled brass rings across the seizure of sky

sorry that I cannot build

eyes

& light

without first making the word known