Summit
the snow has melted just enough
to swim us to the edge
pines as slippery as the sun
real downward
your voice erupts in timbrel waves
across the gaps the chords sound distant
my fingers scatter orange
more sober than yesterday
a thousand gibbons laughed me
out of their barrels caught in a circuit of glass
a violin snapped with septic rain
your eyes open I take the strings
they are as fresh as lichen
growing on this stone