Wind In Your Veins

happy california fox oh ghost you go

forest frost footprint and squealing

vole and you a comet burning

holes in the whole of ole californee

through cold water

in a crick you splash mad as a fish

running through the

fleets of fat grackles

in the mist (morning sun is

coming sure as the spicy

smell of honey puts a

grumbly in the sleepy dreaming

bear’s bumbly) happy little fox oh ghost you go

ocean sand

footprint where you’re

finally slowed, then

lulled into bed,

little black eyes shaking, rolling like

the waves, dreaming

of fingers caressing

your hair

like wind in your veins