i.
He was something loose at the edges he was
all untied and open at his perimeters his
waving borders so loose in the wind fitting
that he would look so fly away so somewhere
absent from here where you saw him
ii.
These are the branches that came out
of his mouth his voice bloomed with trees
dogwood and mistletoe tumbled from his
vocal strings minute wires clung to trembling
green vibrato But he spoke through nets
of leaves often his voice caught
in the foliage
iii.
Where did you come from dark-eyed waif?
Wanderer where did you ask the sun
for directions with his hands clasped he's
holding moon under his tongue --tree man
so inexorable in his carcas why did he
loose his ivory tongue on the hills?
The crows crawled up then they dug
their hooked wings into the earth hard nails
that scratched on limestone Toward him
black smothering rings spun slow ascent
but he was in the desert the implacable
desert and the open --which was like
a door--was more the frame of his
wilderness than the scrawling emptiness
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