Sleepless a cloud of mosquitoes Pieces of man stem
lifts from the lake’s mirror polished floor with filtered branch work
rises among black branches is fallen and now lies
crosses out through the forest out over the earth with roots
hunts through the land hovering high in the air
in shifting formations yet stuck into thick stinking mud
collects itself this way until a little yet stuck tight in continuous decay
bent body in a temple of meat I cannot There is flesh beneath bark
wrest me free which in large flakes
for The apple falls but perhaps new seeds fall from the branches and lie plainly
sour and green throbbing bluish-purple film
and hard as heaven with a mold of white
thickens not far
from the ancestor
loose in the bark
Your stomach is a temple white worms
we worship the creature that lives there under the skin
even though we cannot see it fumble forth while
but merely suspect it in ultra- it forms itself blind
sound scanner’s soundless
pictures sent from that outer space
a creature on the way in its blood capsule
we know approximately when it lands