Cycle

Drop through dream
Dingy, unbleached sky slips me to the ground.
Kissing nature's first, nature's best.
The green, the grass, the gold.
Smile lifts the features then the soul.

Run. Dirt cakes on unshoed feet.
Silent night run. Nocturns sing in dipping trees.
Blue steeled moonlight.
Even the handle sears my grip.
Jagged razor, running still, channels the slip ahead.

Slice the star sky constellation.
Act on anger.
Incision. Sky sags like two lips of doctored flesh.
I draw myself through the gape, from my grip it slips.
Lands point first. Earth shattered, moon sowed.
Countless lay there now. On grass, on green, on gold.