L O S T P A R K O U R P S (A L M S)
Ps (alm)
A feathered mind is
a state, barricade, stump
What you can place in a pocket
is empire building or gown
Laying list of fears, ferns
Palm fronds across
A wooden frame
Hanging pomegranates and portraits, stringing lights
Please enter my festival dwelling
Unadorned folding
Customs
Blue Autumn
Not forgetting pocked floor and walls,
how adept, how adopt, alone, ward,
Does a non descript name lead to non descript verse?
Ps(alm) for Where You Live
A is another aviary with yellow bird
symptoms, aromatic and culling
Your window is curious
about the jackrabbit looking in
The mountains are Peruvian green, celadon
and Sirius, changing maidens of your
mood rising up into the light you affix
to a mantel
Scrying into rock or rhyming non-temperate
regions reply in unanimous monsoon
Ps(alm) for You
Reassurances aside can you tell me what I’m here for
Where for am I —art thou?
And is it true you fall from the sky
That breath is a cauldron of terrestrial memory
Mycelium feeds on granite and fog
and I upon you
Recurrences aside can you gather me from these fathoms
of seemingly meaningless temperatures
and remind me that there is no other reason
That difficulty in reading the mind of a seed
is not a wish for sleep
That you can see the other side of such dormancy
Fledgling through to bower
Ps (alm) Other Than Itself_
You live where you aren’t; heavens, familiars
traverse such a sanctuary
If we were to exist entirely
I wouldn’t mind such absence
of known landscapes
Existence akin to remembrance
not blindness nor reason
Sanctuary assumes nothing
other than itself
If we were to enter
internally — exiting from the boisterous remains
of captive figments, catacombs
We live here also
below assumption,
between image and word
Further than any suggestion
Parkour ambulation, locomotive
You have been existing all along
Dark Mesh Crystal Ps (alm)
Where is that night I was reading
not crystallized but mesh dark clouds
Loudness and scattered tasks approaching
Drawing you from precipitate sleep
Lunging beneathe the cloth undressed
to any object of the word
Instead you courteously reclined and said
I am done, though you were beginning
to transfer yourself from the vertical
to the horizontal plane, whereas you’d rather recline
between texts embryotic, bemused, tucked
and not at all born
Laynie Browne