Spokes

I.

Roots writhe with the worm - the sift

Of the clock cohabits the sparrow's heart.

Between branch and spire - the word

Belittles its nest, and the seed, rocked

By simpler confines, will not confess.

Only the egg gravitates.

II.

In water - my absence in aridity. A flower.

A flower that defines the air.

In the deepest well, your body is fuse.

III.

The bark is not enough. It furls

Redundant shards, will barter

Rock for sap, blood for veering sluice,

While the leaf is pecked, brindled

With air, and how much more, furrowed

Or wrapped, between dog and wolf,

How much longer will it stake

The axe to its gloating advantage?

...

Paul Auster

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