Jasmine fields.

As I brush against the thorn of this rose,

            Trickle down the spine of your mind.

Blood: Warm as a light, dark as death.

Dripping,

D R I P P I N G,

DROP.

Counting words, counting the time on the CLOCK.

To start a fire you must gather your words

            Whole, hold the candlestick to your heart

And whisper the words of the hummingbird.

Softer than the feather of my backyard crow.

The white cedar branches sway and wind howls.