Illustration by Blair Thornley

Like a shriek refusing to fade
and working down leaf, stem, trunk, seemingly
unheard yet to the core of everything made
thrusting edema: power, reamingly
infusing its dependence. So clang, tremble,
seepage -- if I could paint
with berry juice and press gold leaf on the scumbled
parchment of the species, invent
compression for all this in a swoosh letter
looping towns, bomb spurts, waves, winds, jigging matter,
the curse might enter a knot of time. Go back
of the speed, write of onward from behind,
intersecting at nowhere mind's
dot weld, colliding white: red: gold: black.