from Wisconsin

My mouth is filled with the dead
medium of language
embalmed in the thrall
of Christ

*

Lorca cut his heart at sea
disguised grief
as dream hidden
in space, in dark
coils of abandoned wind:
Beauty is alive

Light began as rock My search for music
in a field is concrete

Sound of animal Objects disappear
skien above into air

In the backyard
I see Joseph Beuys


boredom breaks the living

trees grip across the ground

June Plekkenpol is a poet in Chicago, IL.