Aug 4, 2007

Moth-flocked, I row out in a canoe;
drag a part of the lake with

my paddle. God coats ten bees
in broad daylight. Their bodies

are ten pearls, wings a hymn draped
around them like seaweed. Beaver tail

slap water. Water rise and stick to fur.
I would stare through wood if wood

was air and penetrable.

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