a place in the braid

with calm observe these three minutes as they pass like liquid over the hills and satisfy something inside my body like a ghost I wrap in a twining entanglement the hero his home is a silo a broad sweeping field ranges out for a quarter mile beneath whatever kind of sky is holding reception some force behind those stars, each point a tiny burning everything forever and climbing then and with such grace all timid and ticklish; he holds both hands together like a cup and calls upwards is this me, is this all i am, is this my time; and the music is tiny and it rocks him and it mocks him oh leave me alone! Oh dearest bird of all fire and color, just give me time and music and send me forwards like you are, ALL unthinking and strange, all pleasant and then tender, I give all I am to you, little voice, I forget who I am for you , and you leave me again and again, in a strange bind, singing to the silent stars.