the portion is
abundant sown
bellow the creature
bleeds out
brown, winter wheat fields
love
taps
golden
apples
or
pears blushing
in late August air
tree branches reach out
tenderly they
scuff the
wind, and lay
articulate rust, and choice
imperfections
there
pouring
all sin, wine and fire
in to it's
collecting cup-
it
becomes the relationship
and the faith of
the believer
like hard seed
thrown in
unidentified fields
has found
purchase, a harvest
of careless words-
lost, found a living mouth
quoting the
shut up dead.
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