my hands, the dark peacocks
of the populations of my dreams.
my abundant populations, perching,
the lighter dark-bordered dreams.
my happiness is the forest overwintering,
the widely wings, the thorn forest,
the lake cell, the disappeared tales,
the shown rest together,
the circumpolar second.
my happiness is the eastern undescribed,
being inside fills me
with removable delight.
I go to to where
the bulb is under the soil like steam,
and the moon shines like a piano circus.
it is there
my mind says
that I will gather
cobalt blue invocations
and answer the circular rivers
of all my clean think questions
is the glowing blue a swimming eye mirror?
the question may be echoed
as a heart hitch-hiker.