plumb line seagrass meadow of Her heartache

Tribute to bell hooks

Singapore trades mock the theft of wrinkled crystal
traveling all abiding circles of the moonlight dances
where forests run from sterile microscope stones
and the patrons of lost arts favor mutiny over worship

sky-ridden clandestine door frames leaves no trail
passing in and out of heaven’s austere meadow hawk
futures that wrap upon the edges of transcending night
secret contacts like separated line-smith gladiators

steel bodies of fractured horse-Guinevere-ashes
promoting the last concerts and lines between states
limbs like the Great Lakes buried and casts withdrawn
soldiers asked to act upon storied rest-bed rocks at dawn
belief is in itself not a traced casing of an abject loft
it is topsoil graciously landmarking the reification of life