Circles, lines and mounds
are sky patched upon ground,
newborn stars on well-worn paths
scratched into grass.
Signals and symbols shout without sound
to perceptive twigs scouting around:
green trees receive light-coded heartbeats
of night-coiled celestial spheres,
translate, then repeat
void riddles made tonate
through mazed leaf and limb so we can hear
rewinding days of faultless fate,
blind life and death and all they create
jotted down to dot, dash and definite date.
Form stretches with branching breath,
motion etches rhythmic depth
ungraving morbid shapes, colors spin in place,
nebulous orbits engraved in space
for crawling skin to listen, hunter blood sixth-sense
among howling crowds of bones
in audience, somehow figure out with sticks and stones
the heavens condensed.
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