I will kneel before imaginary gods
Take their blue hands as wings
And fly as one of them into persimmon trees
To sing the sweet fruit down
But the one I love
Breaks the back of the world, hammering its vertebrae to dust!
I will sit before my willow fire
Banking heat, storing what light I can.
When night comes as increase of darkness
I will hold cupped hands against the afterglow of that collected light
And sing the songs old men sing before they curl into a bed of ashes.
But the one I love imagines this world
Then comes with wrecking balls, comes with hammers, comes with demolicious fire.
There is nothing better than to wake suddenly in flames!
Walking down the river road in a wedding coat of fire
I find that I am dead already!
These words are memories.
Hearing them, the blue jay turns his back
And lifts his wings into a locust tree.