Joseph Elenbaas

There is desire leaving the ruby Near the un-couched color The wind in haste leaves

Open the trees the march of standing feet quietly picks Up again from the front legs. A sail of disinterest has colored The un-gainful sky, beautiful and satiate leaning on round corners

foment The Eastern sky turned in

Grievous in the torn end-bits of

cloud

turning In the clocks below heaven. Moving slower than time

The precedence marching to and fro. Mention, and the glance associated Falls like the water in fords. Spills hard unto cleaves and letting Rocks. Rocks. Rocks. Rocks: The sense of volute turns straight into a truncheon. Encouraged

Evaluate the execution of Danger, sweeping past God; that leaping sense in standstill:

Elicit rejoices Underneath valleys turned away and Reach first In seismic volition The sun tumbling after ourselves. this quasi fear as little fingers punch few at the end of the pine’s arms covered with delicate green fur. distance work of salutation numbered few. Slate

and garnered is the pride of Judah Ben – Hur. the tremulous thief sags right through like the wind. soothes these

thirsty birds rendered under a more certain term: verisimilitude; the single burst of their bodice errant of their syphoning calls the thorn-head of a cardinal scandalous, the song rising up before intuition.

Joseph Elenbaas: I am a Christian writer, living in West Michigan.