never hustle a girl

in the high spaces where the birds call 

found in the broken pulse of time 

bubble cloud air and water mixed 

drought wilted jungle 

listen, quiet, still 

mare's tail, cat's tail 

gasoline 

white flesh 

dust

nothing between her 

drying paint on native skin 

blood becomes timebomb

her eyes on green wave

diffuse fog

hyenas cry in the trees 

orange beak and claw 

sun 

monsoon 

evening flights 

empty crossings 

green 

time claims its victory now  

each is made of dust

trapped in  the constellations 

the dead and green leaves clutter 

vultures waiting for the rust 

stars 

rainstorms 

formless scud 

 

albatross dying 

snake scales lapping snake scales 

transportation for the dead

 

cloud 

feathers 

fingers, arms 

she is turning to stone 

a woman in the branches 

if she falls

faith, desolation, and life.
Noise, exhaustion, and death

 

hot electric storm afternoon