5_trope

those dreams come thrusting forward
from the tongue
Aleph leads and leaps over a white fence,
the invisible crows sit as if on fire,
the ‘as if’ of the flames lean
toward the rumored clouds
we are drifting across this field

Aleph is followed by Beth
the men in blue trousers move in
they are employed by the rain
the rain cannot blame us enough
we are blessed in the deluge
and work toward the temple
where the letters converge
Gimel is the third letter
as we climb the temple mount

so clean are the tubers
and so blue are the swaths of air
trumpets sound in the center
of the letters, seraphim and angels
jump from the end of an ancient
writing device, o the field, the fiel
is where we are buried
in the field we drink to excess
and find our way

in the field wild eyed men
caress the tall grass
far off he yew trees cry out
overhead the crows glisten
men are trapped in the deep terrain
of their own silence
come offer the letters a chance
in a wheat field, near a cypress
on the edge of your mind

dreams, dreams, the empty
field, mice are speaking
open air calls in a secret
combination of letters, come touch
the dream, become
overtake everything, find
the chasm by the pale sky
as night descends, as single
letters begin their ascent