i'm flowing over your mouth with my mind
as the funereal trees conspire
and the heart expands again, a flower
of bees without master, a sign

of nonsense greater than the winter
which bides before each spring
of eyes pitch and hazel, and blue
as well as gold, realigned

and my mouth is a mouse of water
as all words weigh as grey and mossy
as an ounce of intricate mud
in true-drawn light, i float as rivers

gone and rivers going, over your mouth
an ocean upon a stream as the trees