The Moon As Seen By The Sea Is A Small Vessel Lit From Within

As the giant cuttlefish

chromatophores in the skin make fast-flying clouds in the reef

a skin that itself sees, then tells the brain to be grateful

To tell the body back: There is a world

and then to midsummer the mood of pollen finding lift in wind

allow flesh to make music within, that limns into itself lightly

For one step unto the next alone

gently

Cipher for the unknown

a more-than-green grass in a hidden gulch

for migrants: the melody of extinct water

For the sake of the least viable

the unseeded fruit, the recalcitrant emotion, the inner-directed

storm that smothers timid vines, alabaster morning glories

that wait until dusk calms to begin to twine

Whatsoever speaks

gently

Beneath the whole individual—

a braiding catacomb of earthsong

bones hollowed for music

made gentle

by the circle

For the love of non-ordinary states,

great regard  for spiritual emergencies:

listen to crying wind over the lost water

& each a dreaming ship

captives together changing form

somehow grateful