by Sarah Mangold

orange groves
air breathers
almost a perpetual motion machine of emotion
until the poets heart broke
or was burned on the beach
there was something from outside coming in
a real arm reach
the snowball in the kitchen
existed never again
and warm to motion telling
endless activities but at least not celebrated

thistle into thimble
phonetic payoff
waterproof pooling
Alaska to Argentina
much minus
recalling the saints who were the poets
focusing in on the process itself
the jarring discord
must enter the composition
his awareness that desire
must be enmeshed in error
knowing and unknowing