Come
Come with me
The world is full again, and green
Tendrils, reflections of spirals rise from the ice in the glass
and the flame is new
and my lungs burn with summer
Water speaks,
euphony with the voices of toads and cicadas
who scold
the sulfur and hiss which kindled my midnight oil
It is full in the world and
the moon is open, it is fitting

I will show
You --
Flying is not hard
without sleep, even without a magnolia wind
because the bamboo is not here
Feathers fly You
It is ours
Seventeen.

The flame is still.
Still
as water, it writhes when touched
Feline, in tactile ecstasy
shuddering with langorous
Pangs of truth.
Born is the wait
I can taste the solstice

I never have to ask
Don't you see?
You know. Only ever lonely
specifically
I want to walk
Well
Fly