Above the flagrant dawn rags
of scrip, skywriting traces
pencil gray, a long message
a never known tongue erases
text the celestial spheres write.
Orange bleeds the bottom line
punctuating what’s not kenned
red melting the tablet to liquid
clay, the record of sold & bought
some clerk’s calculation.
Before this conflagration
the redwoods stand as acolytes
as tresses, tall racks of lace
layers shade from beige to pink
to robin’s egg to aquamarine.
Who could or would want to read
when air’s to see, wisps of wire
spiral an axle, mohair
spins to halos of fairy threads.
Once the blaze subsides surprise
a graph of gray stays, fine
postscript, memory of saying
phonemes awash with lost sense
a flaring fishtail agape
swims out from a weedy maze.
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