Intentions to breathe [“Before even one day has passed"]

Before even one day has passed in the beyond, the weeds will cover our monuments. Our architecture replaced by another more furious. National symbols wrapped in ivy, the power lines covered in flowers and moss. Plants like claws. A great avalanche buries our cunning. You’re strong, I can tell: you’re no stranger to trembling.

It’s December. I haven’t written
except for on the walls of this place
so fled, and not even by scribbling on it
do I recognize it.

Girls and boys rattle their piggy banks. Having set loose the fires of vacation, they sing “The Branch”:

Soon full moon & winter solstice,
perfect time to take a selfie;
through a dance slips lightness
and purity with all your money.

Your face hosts this season’s
changing light;
green, blue, cakes of  red
are your branches, lightning, veins.

 ...

If one dreams while the sun is about to hide away, the sunset looks like a torn-out tapestry and the mountains give the impression of being a back-ground ... A thickness ... The fundamental black wall.