Arbor Labor Union

***Stretching out from purple dawn (Patch of Violet) to cicada twilight (Spittle of the Morning Moon) like Whitman laying on his back observing the dew drop worlds collected on shards of green swords(hidden in a drop of dew), to the topographic map of the stars as witness/ dull mirror ,reflecting the constellation of the human body (zodiac man). To the cloud disappear / cloud evaporate canned heat boogie hymnal of Clear View. The prayer is answered and the sun pokes the light through again. A voice in the forest calls out blindly. She lets her hair down and answers, calling him back to her in the way she knows how. A CSNY seasoned skillet of guitar fried taters (repunzel). Out to pasture indeed. More bound and freer than ever. From the stump again to sky, Arbor Labor Union. As the leaves fall. 2025 AD.