Out of the memory-shaped unfurling
The light fell in germinating veins
So that the colors precipitated out into the open air

I see the red flower
With the dragonfly in the middle of it;
Unsettled, hovering

Walking,
Thinking of the past
And those ghosts lying under the trees

The last red water lilies
Nine abreast, half transparent
In precipitous deliberation

Perhaps out of unnatural still
Making gestures like spirits of the dead
Nimble, yet fraught with desire

The memory-shaped pauses
Toneless and monotonous
Pressed down into the soft earth

I see orchids
And rain and vultures
Substance and color

Down under the shadow of the flowers
Where colors of all shapes wavered
And sought shade upon the horizon

The dissolving voices
Broke the silence, and turning,
Cried aloud