Was it always bluebirds?
Upside down, a paradise
left golden hot red?
Could it be the fur
on the belly of a rabbit?
The deep glow of an iris
tie died blue green together.
Creek of the grasshopper
outside the blue window,
sometime early morning,
humming iridescent opal
hanging on its side, the deep
blue dark night time, the leonids did call
for you, the bees asleep in their cribs, the buzzing,
it’s you, deep dark voice like night time,
paradise golden, the big boom of the sky falling
for november, just like Lincoln saw too, baby moon
the sun burns hot red, your feet
burned, bluebirds singing,
tied together, the sky does not shatter,
the big bloom of the circle sky opals,
the leonids did call on you, me, tied together.