She is content with the calico cat
poosha the boy pilot who crashed
his plane in takeoff suckled home
the Stones on the transistor mother
smothered with a cover of beauty.
For content she talks about crows
the two in the street eating squish
squirrel but the murder on leaves
the warm asphalt melting summer
sun heat where does heaven hide
and why at night come monsters
from paradise looking for a name.
She will not join a community
whose purpose is to persecute
another heaven a different earth.
Satisfied she collects the stories
of the stones beauty calcified
in underground electromagnetic
waves on a static spirit oldie
station where sleeping birds
again awake to the murder
of the sun or return not
and even the earth’s rot
will not endure and old
trips up the coast memorized
in slide shows by campfires
that death may be related
to beauty the birth of moods
passion splurge now dead
urges flown to beauty’s abode.