The Predicate is the Subject of Spring is yellow jacket jack jabber jabber jackhammer jackrabbit woodpecker racket jug jug juggling humble bumble bee machinery run run running the humming heaving heaven in sums of sun and wheeling and whirring and whirling and near you and listen you sometimes you hear hugging havoc chanting cantons of carnal knowledge kisses caresses in sacred factories fueled on the feel of the still amber air seemingly all glowing and all the wild winds becalmed beyond the inner ides are oiling all the reasons for drowning in dawn rose spawning hurls of lemon light into the socket dark pit deep hoping groping eye tasted days and days of gorging a mouth blooded on strawberry blueberry necessary and honeysuckle for heavens above the earth quakes daybreak creaking on a brim of a bric a brac logic with trappings of butterfly traffic and passerby music borne swallow swift on the silvery soul of pearly innocence and the slowly hurry up sun summons mint mirth here from shadowdown glooms and nimble from quick With high bred heathen hushes bearing elations of Hybrid havens of love on all the rich long living glistening lushly softly still eyespill of dazzledown dust decanting kinglings of love down grain by grain through the same hour glass throat there came a gurgling a liquid a darkling of suckling reasonings feathering together above the sovereign feel of one single file plunge plumage through a crack to a light a lifetime a hairline a part learned out streched on meadowdown pages scribbled in brailles of cross hatched grass and eve found this bliss of magic music lyric logic locked within this splendor of split second spurt splintered bewitchery while adam drove a dram of all this ghostly godly thistledown stuff into this intensely vale of this insanely light lurching evermore utterly down one long eon noon luring rhythms of yielding into the stop stop of driving go into come with breast upon breast beast unto beast within a feast of haste reddened in tooth and claw and eye conjoined eye to be to be to be in ceremonials processions of primrose skip skipping along to welcome spring flown down here by bravura bespoken damseldown doves hawking love in all the rich reach sweepdown arch of the watched watching sky over head eye saw soaring up above tribal pines grazing among cumuli nomads in mad unfurling swirls of jubilee glee and the blue euphoria of eye dreamily in wildly yearning and mourning in the gently place of the softly breeze with unions on a silky hill where offerings of forever and ever hung hunger down from the holy holy be thine eyes hovering on the horizon of the be of being you the verily of you you look look surely over there right over there surely you will see the silver vessel with the golden yearn for the medium of spring to sing that humming song in harmony with softly the refinery of silence runs on the feel of the fuel of murmuring an answer sunning be in the mystery of the machinery of the meaning of it all

Solemn ceremonials of shadows convene To engineer illuminations from the leavings of the light Cricket mechanics in their legions Lubricate the bearings of the sight Listen Whoever hears the joy in the blackbird's song Fuels the ethereal machinery of the soul for Singing You, You see? You see those Symposiums of Trees? They Hey, listen They know. They know you by name You? You hear Them sighing? Listen Their sighs summon you to communion Listen They're listening to you listening to them The The listening is hope soothing those Who have learned the synonyms for The requiem hymns of every Day's Worth of dying. The The Listening is the silence of whispering There's more More thought by knots of cumuli than all the sky can reveal More lit by pathfinders of fireflies than any night can conceal The meaning homes in on you with treasures to be taken Its Kingdom come call singles you out by awe to be stricken To drink From you the sunshine flavour of gratitude To share With you the empire property of beatitude To Come Along now The instruments of the eyes Inherit blindness from The revelations of reason

Where Where the candle shivering in the cold can See by the flicker of its weightless light The predatory night using blindness To work out the cause for the mechanical Breakdown of the reason there is no reason The candle can see in the white noise Of the traffic going by blindness belabouring Silence for sound enough to hear time's Instructions on how to get things going again And all The while the night The eventual night The inevitable cold And the overrun of Warnings As though in the breathing Of a living listening flesh hush Hush there is In the breathing A kind of caution A kind of calling A kind of coming Softly Softly Coming Calling like wolves Coming So softly calling In the distance a kind of a far away howling As in a bequeathing Coming from a candle keeping The mechanics of blindness at bay.