Interim Volume 29

Showings I. I open my eyes and taste God. A sky blue through bare trees then birds. The spirit moves surely but not upwards.

I make a fire but no words come — Fodder, I say, for tomorrow As green boughs take their time coming into flame, as smoke hangs in the smallest of places, a sweetness that makes the lungs constrict, as I strain toward the visible, the stunning labor of breathing As fire now builds its force, As voices work their way to the surface of a river — Sweet glory of the foresting, Bright flicker of the bodying, Burgeoning flame-lengths of the spiriting, as I am my own offering When the unsayable is lodged in the throat.

II. I follow the narrative up the mountain, Great arcs of flame mending and sighing A moment in the world, terra firma Sloped and rucked-up with till, Stobs and understory kilned by the radiants Ghosting the sucking air, ember-thronged The far ridge flecked then submerged with light As wind blows from a large place through a draw Sprawling flame down the backside of the drainage Strange light canting the surge and bevy, 47