Early morning    Watching pachyderms    Gracing a piece of the earth    Endless berth    Feathers all around    Moving so that they've time to take conscienced chances       What kind of prayer does one make to preserve the inner laughter?       Eyes rooted always in    Weathered folds of hide    braced against the wind    Dirty clouds of dust    masking all the signs    Does the thought of loss, something left behind    make the present painfully clear       living here?       I saw you slit your eyes with your stained glass scissors    They oozed incensed    Smoke dissolving the varnish on your shellacked robe    I saw conception in your bowels    An infusion into your arterial beliefs       It emanated from its filthy hands    And lifted its shriveled shoulders    I saw it molt    And drop its template on the courtyard    Walked out into the skinned night    A sight for sore eyes       Shallow evening    Symbiotic birds    eating the bugs off of hides    Endless blurs    Watch their flight    Cutting clouds like the scythes that have finished harvest       What kind of dark does it take to release an act of thunder?       Eyes rooted always in    Weathered folds of hide    braced against the wind    Dirty clouds of dust    masking all the fight    Like an afterflash rumbling in the night    I will think of being here       Living dear