I want to square the ridgeline
What jagged blue exists in the south
Much like the white pines
their soft wood and pollen
Birds I do not know call
ghosts and meridians
A wonder of smoke
Will travel for
Will become or will do nothing at all
It is quite perfect to be away from home
What different lines gather
And of course desire drives
A host of sounds
What ever makes them
I wonder as fluids turn monsters
An unmaking occurs each time
I look for some particular thing
Red seedling
Yellow flower
Watching the dawn is not hard
Elizabeth Claire Rose, Luminary (color print from film)