I see a rose beside the water, a little cup of red eyelids sustained aloft by an eternal sound: a green-leaved light touch the head-springs and transfigures the forest with solitary beings with transparent feet: the air's full of bright vestments and the tree establishes its dormant magnitude.

LIFE AND DEATH OF A ...

The butterfly from no-where
flies in the tempest:
all the equinoctial threads,
the emeralds' frozen paste,
everything flies in the thunderbolt,
the air's ultimate consequences are shaken,
then a rain of green stamens
and the emerald's startled pollen rises;
its great velvets of wet fragrance
fall on the cyclone's blue shores,
merge with the fallen terrestrial leavens,
return to the homeland of leaves.