More Law 2 (2)

Lyrics

The measureless fruits are Here, where piebald cows, horses, stand Half moonlit in ponding fields After furious rain Where trees cast their darkest shadows Cutting us, sliced in half with the sharpness Of monster fingered light-invading branches. What’s the light, the mist of diffuse fusion fire reflected Here where we lead these beasts, burdened with packed apple trees And corn, these beasts of our lives And memories, lead them up the fate hills Silvering in this mystery moonlight, so many Thousands and thousands, as though The hills (the fated hills, the last hills, Mounded breasts swelled against the stars) Are bug infested, teemed by us and our awkward movements, Quivering alive as if our lives Seep from our feet into their water tables, Rendering the others the promise of spirit, The sustenance of life drawn wet From distant springs, drunk from silver, gold and pewter chalices, The sweat of our offering. Not alone here, I smile, breathe Deep the strong smell of animal flesh and feces, Down trod apple juice, The hoof clop smacking my ear. I reach out and caress her shadow arm, Drawing in, close to a kiss, Enclosing her with my tunicked Arms, allowing the frayed material To brush the sensual corner Of her half-open mouth.