*

The hornbeam rocks in the wind
– leaves striated, curled –

Planets thunder in the green
or blue aurora

draping your eyes
in winding canals

*

Note:

The algorithm is tightening and tightening, the fragment and assemblage being subsumed by the painterly endpoint. This was the hardest to choose by far – but then I can’t know, really. Maybe I’m feeling the restraints of language more in the changing seasons.

Nevertheless the central feminine figure here stepped out of nowhere, the prompt being the last lines of this poem, devoid of humanoid concepts, except the eye. My love, always sneaking to the centre of things.