cumuli—
my spring into
non-being
nothing
in a process of 
osmosis
wing-flapping
over primal seas
heaven hound
te po
here I breathe
your last
out of season
autumnal haiku
from abroad
climate change— 
a tuatara through
its third eye
Spring
 
 
something moves with darkness fresh green
 
planting fruit of the earth human hands
 
remember man the dust in we sprang
 
in blossom born butterflies
 
nothing so near lushness of now
 
ground dark the end begin
amid lushness
an idle idea 
of order
is that it?
an overdone show
of words

days overcast beyond their reach