The whistle in the cloud’s vexed eyes Shrills on me, while I respire the ether I watch men’s eyes whirl through ash trees Fall of hose in their fingers; a breath of Chaste ambiguity: at a seconds notice Severs apart their innards Charge of people: split in The green rinse of rose I wait, in eyes of pure certainty- I wristwatch the glop descent the Highest cross roads from the blue My head on a tiara, I keep In embracement of tulips: Glass shattering rivers Where I along a cluster of docile men Swim back and fourth: probing Cherubs inside our eyes Gating authority, I keep my head on a tiara Down the river, I see them Dancing to the harmony of Commonality Charge of people: split In the blue rinse of the ocean And I, in their eyes of authenticity Search for the mere living fish At a halt inside: swimming the heavens Inside the oceans and all the rivers Glass shattering dreams I search alone along a set of docile men For the only breathing mortal on the peak And now down below in the pond Of our passive insides