Song of the Jungle Stream

It's in this jungle
Of lovingly obscure possibilities
In light as yellow
As all else is green
That spring water
Becomes warm
Spread by the wind
And softly faulty
Invites eyes
To follow it from beginning to end

But eyes
Directed by anything
Even wind
End up watching
Fixed and dried up
From within
Concentratedly no longer
Of the jungle's green
Is reminded
Of the sea

Six strange things like flags
Strangely ununtouchable
To understanding
But mysteriously
On his nose
His nose
Many young birds
Skyline in rest of dying

There is breath of the night
Held to the animals
To cover
In communication
And the counting of the house
Turning the black sky's stars blue

And life rains down on us
As we arrange
The grafting of hill to tree
To make of another
Next one's
Straddled horizons
An excess of clarity

And the jungle border
Draws and drags
The dying man
Towards its customs