Blue Heart

As pure as dolphins; and sorely pained. I near the ebb and tip
A toe; and walls of brick, and sulfur snow; and how to paint—
A perfect smile; and stipple life—a fender crown. We must
Believe—a fathom deep: a helm of gold—a tear asleep; and

Silent sound—a wave of ghosts: the smallest seed: the
Loudest pulse. A cherry voice—and berry skin; and bleeding
Thoughts—and marshy fens; and die the heart—an early age: a
Tinge of death: a partial cage. But soon to fly—a nib and ink: a

Flight of geese: a vision pink; and Venus light—a beating
Flame: a sugar plum: the crops of fame. And opal pears—a
Silent moon: a year of life: a time to swoon; and drum a wave;
And voice a spark; and feel the earth—a beating heart. I fathom
Math—a plural scar: a gong of pain—and life’s guitar; and
Pumpkin pie, a mile away; and bees and thorns, a normal day.