The roaring alongside he takes for granted
And that every so often the world is bound to shake

                                                                                                               
branches are contention
not of the birds
wind intends
away from the birds
against

I am threatening
sun on trees
with words

I am a warning
for them not to close

I am a grasping
even when I utterly go



-

all that time
all that thought
all these times
all these

-

days that live past death
on a coast wind
days like the sea picked from a poem
with an understandable fierceness
and an appropriately distant love

-

desperate times call for exactly the same measures
and a sudden change in a song’s register
and hurricane of pronouns switching the weathervane
we, we, we ,we

with whoever I
have to do with it
will be fought and called
                                                we


-

Five-fingered hands
scrap, grapple, give hold
fall reach touch
count write get up
choke shift
their grip and something

I am asking you for detail
because we aren’t there yet
                                                and you saw something else

the road to paradise
passes by hell and we are walking