On top

Cabbage leaves
outside the church
and everywhere
petal pushers.
To speak the
language of flowers
we badly buddy
need their
names. "Well
what's cabbage? Me?"
Feelings everywhere
mute covered
in white stucco
barbed shadows
of the world–
tree's plumbing
top billing as
always for the
biggest star
i.e. god
her engaging
physicality. We
fucked in buggy
Intercourse, PA.
The bear stares.
Sauerkraut!
"Will true love
never dry?"
The dark days of
summer thunder