the purple land
the red of nature
of flowers
of birds
is not in conversation
who can hear
that dialogue
and converse
inverse
break away
fire
and break the
son
I mean
Sun
what is this nourishment
if the seeds
from the watermelon
die
with the birds
enter then
and be
a morsel of the red
when the hand hurts
and breaks away
when wings fly alone
and no song carries
whisper then
against all reservations
against all protest
deaf doors
and once wooden lives
hope
under birds
go then
where there are no more