her dreams in a labyrinth of eden
clouds
or boulders
we travel thru
broken fields reaching
leaves & fishes burning Edens
words like ghosts
whisper forests
rivers in your
hands rivers
above sky
the women
weaving this
moment do not
count your fears
& the shroud shines
orange blossoms
charred papers
the skin of
watered
plums
& who strings
the lissome
shadows
shouts
seas
& weeping
stones a frost
of waiting deer
lichen moon dust
her dreams your rain;
how to get h’ere from th’ere
Richard Lance Williams
Posted over on More Poetry
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