grief is an action word   & a fool
cloud raining foolishly   cloudishly
raising the forest of your reality
where vague animals come to
drink   from gunless waters.

& a billhook raised to cut a singular
orange candy accurately   the sun
coughs on my shoulder   I let it dry

under the eaves   where the sky is
on the grass   your weight a
sparrow's dirge   there's always more
to all agonies and pleasures that never
wander out of our electric edens.

when the blade slices through   the
two sides of the candy slide away
from each other.

we should only talk in vowels   there
are only so many words to be made
dipthonging tripthonging   we'll be
ents over tea-smoke

with soil-seeping rain
on my lap   with each touch
touchstone

~Ajay
14/11/2019