~ for Martha Oatis
Every page
Or so there is
This before
The forest floor
And all around
Crystal states
Remembering
Is this clairvoyant
Grammar breaks
The world in two
Never because
Organic is between
These senses needles
Thrown to a wind
Precarious blank
Of worlds again
Like pages put to words
Backward scattered
To horizons opening
Or an axis for perception
All children recalled
From death-by-growth
An organic dying for which
Wind blows clouds break
The world in two
Becoming what single
Image for the parsed
A body formed by decision.
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