joy-water

Filling

from the source,

an ah composite:

hour fibers

are green so yellow

Innside, before

the long

grass whispering, waiting

for us —

Prospect’s Azuring, upsloping

beyond the daywind; Let

the ocean’s words be

as they break endlessly on Ninth Street…

swash smiling across country,

‘cross the covered creek, up-

falling where the ice gives,

where I go in for you. Believe

that I needn’t “Modeh Ani”

to see the celested edge

cause it’s there in the foreground

(lily-like)

— or here

by the ocean.

No know

simply flow