As/Is







3.01.2005


Compose Flowers

Soon every
Quiet of the body
Stills near late wisteria
And apple pulp

Chores lifted to
A light place
Call upon each
Softness of the page

Plucked strings
Brushed once
With angular
Contentment rinse

By accident of earth
A faith in certain
Points of focus
Planted on small plots