There is a casual sort of happiness
in the middle of conversations
to take the mind to Egypt and
beyond. We cross the floor in lieu
of picking the nearest instrument to
spray the room with invisibility’s we
learn from creatures of youth.

Something hard is driven inward
until the mind gives up its weary
spirit; 'no more of this,' it says,
'I want to see the ocean again.'

Flying formations contain messages
to give us a sense of what things are;
that is, the subduction five miles deep.
And beyond the sky race images of perfection.

Far from the graceless state of the old planet
we vanish into the permanent earth; a heart
spills into the ground. Will the future marvel

at what grows here?