Do lightweight people have a head?

Put eyes on the neck

and these questions peel

 

along a garden of hair. You, morning,

love a stranger. Not everyone can be

the same, but you love a stranger

 

and opened your mouth to him

under the beech, the elm, under the oak

trading human and arboreal

 

fungi. The excess space junk making

prayer beads of morning’s screaming

party. Cycling bandits fanning the treeline.

 

 

 

 

09:25 (local time), June 18, 1986, at 3800 m, Rostov on Don.