saint george traffics
scrub oak bends further
lichen
thickens
too many twists
in these trees
the weight of moss
the fracture of bark
sitting bone cracks
'it was
that bone which got broken in my neck…
the one they break when they hang people'
sand stones
percolate
periculo
black
burnt gorse
'too late to save the heather'
they're
making a clearance for
the purple headed mountain
because it is written
and according to estate
tree spindles upwards
economically inactive
but greening
circle
these iron circles
cypress
skyline
teeth towers
dark drawn in
shorthand
fade out
green
circles move and tilt
leftward and
rightward slopes
sun on
neck
uncircled
these
sticks
my arms
will kindle
in gorse flower
air