Sliding down of towers, moon in tree. Men
surround me
in the early skin of my backache.
Moon in the water and landed grass
beholding. Down-sliding me
through each evening. Our boxes and down-sliding
towers, tree slickening
to cold. Oh moon, who cares
for your slick-sly down. The sky
when you slide drops down. Evening
skeins off in down-meaning
ropes. Body
with its mark. And stable,
surrounding. Grass upon which
a moon can cast light.
Circle of hold-me-down
light. Men
surround me
in the slide-downing sparrow. Little blow-bird with light
on its circle. A grass grows
the water darker. In flood the red knot
slips down. Silt on the moon making blood
and down-sliding towers, the men that
surround me. Arrow of men and bird never
reaching. Down the grass which
slickens the even-so. Evening, that stiff
skin, slacks off its crust.
Heart's open bag, slag on the water.
Men
surround me,
swell of water going
green. Down-sliding
to grass and landed
towers blue. Men
surrounded me next year,
too.