Time to sleep,
time when trees move earth
and wells begin to wake.
Black springs
rise out of the dark
land of heartbeats
land breathing
the long red morning
calling awake
trees which lean into it,
the yellow light of pitch.
Everything rises.
I rise, breach
as earth does
when clay begins to walk
to take on life
and sing.
Sweet pollution,
the trees in morning,
black locust,
red willow,
trees the wind moves
move this life,
my voice in the leaves.
Breathing, hear them breathing,
rising, dissolving the ground.
Carbon
red ochre
we rise
burning
out of soil.