POEM: Renga

Snow covered trees reach
Up with meaty muscled arms -
Bones replete with flesh

Spackled gray - craning shoulders
That hold up the sky.

In razor water,
Those gray cranes stand tall crossing
Primal horizon -

An eastern cross in braised light
The purple of blood.

Bruised round purple fruit -
As kisses go, this one comes
Close to violence,

Tender sunrise, slips its bonds –
This birthday balloon!

Rolling, I cannot
Escape the laughter of day
Or sheltering clouds.

My sleep, shrouded in felt fog,
Holds open its hands

As parallel lines
Like rails as long as dreaming,
Gives off diamond tones -

Shards of bright awakenings -
These milky jet streams.