Let’s begin with a patch of grass
The front yard lawn beside The Plums
Facing the moon street people pass
Cozy strollers in toe and lilting drums

I think on
The Cherry out back and a nagging
Lying prostrate itch
Fluttered words 
Behold those before you as you read
Faces full
Complete. Inerrant.
No apparent feel for your
Illegitimate pleeding pitch

"Mein Französisches Kind wo weilest Du?"

I remember the verse as they stroll by
Begun their smiling day
Already
All full and watchful and bygone to you
Witness the pass perfect beat
Shoe sure way

I am
The splintered mind
I am
The weeping tease
I am
The galled limb hanger-on
I am
Cradling close the trees
The play beyond
Words too 
Primary
Too generous to peel
Or cut down

(If you've beheld this exuberant living smile you know)

To wit

You'll pass and let
Slip your understanding with
Sybilant side-ward glances
Stand your dock in
Upright lake stances
Perform flawless
Backflips

Or so we're to report

Plumb a ringed shadow
Wake of yellow leaves

I myself rise stumbling knee deep
Looking on
Wading
Wishing to believe
The fire-flown legend
Gilts even for me even
When three crows grieve

You float near
Those docks
Grin toothy for the youth
With perfect locks
Proportionate crotch
Colored
Blue and white

I wait and brew
I finger the plated
Braid hidden
I wont it were blonde
Not bald and brazen slight
Past once bidden

Bygone Billy.
Or so you call me and
Dismiss all as
Surplus to quantum quatrain self 

And miss the
Wielder of wound-up charms
Undone
Hope for a found heirloom
At one
Gathered and gone down to shine in the face
Of it