matt's notebook

heliconias

wind, spit
mud and salt

the ants tell me the earth catches the sky on a pole
the earth lights the sun with a green stalk

the ants tell me we are our father's eyelash and see round everything
heaven's not more than a cup of rainwater

rain, spit
salt and mud

the ants tell me we furnish this caldera lake
bisect this pistil and stamen mire

the ants tell me the line girdles and grafts the world
the line eats nectar sweat by god

wind, fit
salt and mud

the ants tell me the fields will burn when the cane is cut
the weaverbird will eat what is rightfully his

not so, not true at all, just what does that damn bird farm? ants, huh! what do they know?
the ants say catch the weaverbird if you can

rain, fit
mud and salt

the ants tell me you are blushing flowers
your hymens yellow thunder

the ants tell me you crack the wind and conduct the rain
your hands drum and the line dances

wind, cut
mud and salt

the line reports hibiscus tastes the ocean
your necks bruise but you stand

your eyes perfuse but you divide the clouds
the ants say rattle, heliconias, flush on the storm

blade, cut
salt and mud

stalks split,
ants drown

knife hacks you down
for 50 cents

Matthew John Williams
2000