its looks weathered out
the rain pulling against the dry wood
like it pulled down the green leaves
into the white-and why so plain-sky
that fell
onto the spring

everyday and through hand-held receiving
words and word that are and is you(rs)
who could help but to gather them
and i am a rake that pulls your piles
of whats been collecting there
by the house

there is a gold vase toppled over
frozen in the landscape of the window
but the leaves are still growing
and i wouldnt dare move that
because it still holds
and the light in here is jumping off of that shell
and my life is jumping out of this shell