TheTwo Fires

I leave my voice in the              crevice
of the tree
above
the moon rises pale and grim
muted stars drop

in the bowel of my silence

Can time be timeless?
no color
shows up in the soft folds of the brain cramped
with lack of salt .         I feed the empty vessel
get into the folds of the brain up through
roof of the mouth that you have forgotten
how

to open

The world moves heavy
on nerve edges –
an eon passes before an image reveals
on cornea
and another falls like a fly from the wall

molecules mix into the health drink
arbitrate            between the two fires in my body –
one to keep me warm and coupled to you
another to rise to the gods
earth and sky weld in a blind heat of
dissolution.

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Matrika

She went from shop to shop disbursing money, lifetime
like leaking faucet dripped before debt was paid:
she looked at clock every half minute, patient.

Two spans she counted placing the palm on the table: two
laps back and forth to cremate the dead across the river.
That was the third gone, her womb was shredded flesh.

Two months exact before the climb up the hill, fuzz of grey
in the middle of vision, a pillar of dusk covered the earth
and the egg like sundried fig curled on the heat of the stone.

She single handed reforested the hills, the trees first – always
begin from large to small. Who would put in the birds, insects,
the spiders, specially the pebbles entranced by the brook?