Lyrics

Music, wind, someone's car horn Imagining to return Buddha's big toe on the lake Your intricate gaze of form Eating the lake like a word Unzipped carefully by day You walked it hesitantly You taste something step by step                         • Losing my way, wildly blue Perhaps annotated past The return gaze, my snowfall My city gate firmly shut Even to wonder how you've been Isn't what you want, therefore Lightly enclosing my text Cast down toward what I've not seen                         • Happily a ceiling fan You grasp the word sweltering Days are tectonic, the sound Of one memory spoken Who waits for you at the lake's Wild edge? Bright glint of the noun You knew dissatisfaction Speaking even against time                         • Recorded a length of time I held memory tightly Unoriginal dimming Of  the light there, a found scene Number three on the dirt path Father carries his school bag Without use for meter, yet Both skies open to thunder                         • Don't speak to me of sorghum Red fields, pressed up toward a sky Whatever called to me there Too wild, attempting a face Old verses for my father Dignify the cooling page Black earth is the word it makes Tilts forward, consequential