To be for infers 

to be against,
                         just as take presumes give,

 

blank 
assumes filled-in 

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                         and tree’s up 
                         shadows root-river.

 

Dear Ruse of Choice,
the goodbye on the side of silence 
clashes with raucous hello. 

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                                                An arm in a sleeve gathers an emptiness
                                              in the one waving back to the one waving.

 

Hours up-hill hiking into the wind purge 
the chest muscle of stasis, could fall felled 
to a fragrant could fly.

 

                                                         Those alive can be necro-torn.

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Cattails’ wind-awry reeds double-threaded by red-wingeds and rain.

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Water seeps betweens and wind gales a middlescape.

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                                                    Adhering to that logic, call the breeze
                                                                      a loss of warmth.

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A mind brittle in the now from the then.

 

                                                Remembering ranges is this I a built nest
                                                  or the clashing vows of anachronism?

 

Call rain teeth or beads, then the rain 
chews its own foot or strings a curtain of crystals
                        amidst which two crows bracketing a branch 
                        slough a were curve 
                                                 into the law of gravity—
       
               arrangements by chance 
                                                               as not dog,     
                                                                                         as wolf.