Poets

once founded we are a phloem on the bark a guest of the bark & inner child of the arterial roads. these

the steps remembered the dark, the break between lessons in the woods, the ringing above the staircase, the beatings that went with the nouns, the mnemonic salt hunched up

what blew at us from large peopled trees was originally deepened into the time of conversations, tree language was baumkuchen and lay