The mumbling motorcades
pass the spit gouge.
Someone stole the donations jar
from the liquor store
for the funeral.
Someone retches next door.

Hard light of love
on the fir branch warbler.

Tell, amaranth; we have
an old light-grown animism,
post-millenial.
I’ll hang wishes
from your cotyledons
if you want.
I’m a hollow object
coming green with guess.
Surly amaranth,
aztec power food,
tell, tell.

Is weed stoic for human
in peril but happily
shining noxious milk
in which a breath gets done
intelligent ether
burns up the ground
sand and smoke
sssssstt, pervasive medium.

Mortals breathe air
gods and weeds, ether
particulate matter
hazing between the live oaks
Love-Lies-Bleeding,
or Tassel Flower
or Joseph’s Coat.

JARED STANLEY is the author of Book Made of Forest (Salt Publishing, 2009), as well as the chapbooks I Something Scott Inguito You (Scantily Clad, 2009) and The Outer Bay (Trafficker, 2008). With Lauren Levin and Catherine Meng, he edits Mrs. Maybe. He lives in Merced, California.