WITH SINEW BOUND SHEAVES ...

WITH SINEW BOUND SHEAVES

With sinew bound sheaves of silence you pay
The levy of a day’s travel in contentment
Sky’s autumnal brass sky’s half of light
Plainly furring against sky’s half of dark
As wisped collars of ditch banks ablaze
For this you are come are still here are
Falling away an electric heat measure
Infinitesimal aspect of innumerable horizons
Awhirl under the manacled smith’s heels
The smith’s loess soles driving the coil
You trade all away into quiet dissolve
And the smith’s heels grind you formless