between trees, a light, moving

crows at sunset
edge along salmon clouds—
flowering pines

streams of light swimming upstream against the ether the sky the stars
half moon in and out of clouds and trees depending where you sit the crows
incessant plaintive lost once across the dry desert in the grey rain the sky looked
this way scalloped at the edges layers moving across each other in never rained
bleak and forbidden but near the skull pass the holes in the outcrop small sculptures
waiting to be laid arranged down onto tan dust iron slate black burned shale
scrape along the tide where an ocean remembers itself standing high here drowning
the road and every isolate driver moonreturn and cloud breakup ice coexistent ice
streams of loss everything flowing up and away leaving an emptiness the hole in the stone

the fireflies, peering through lost vessels, the curved ear canal
blocked with ancient sound, never dying away, never