number's fountain

its easy to count when there is only one
but is it still or volatile, or yet
making a greater third
out of a seperate pair:
a knot in a rope
a flame in the center of dry branches
a heart twisted from veins
pumping to untie each other
untying itself...a recent cyclops empties foootprints a step from darkness, in a vacant wind and torn clothes, leaking through a cracked window like a free balloon
and the line blurs
as rain is tickled from a glaciar
sinking between the poles
then, so again, to the forced four: walls
broken in series
by an absent door
blown open,
(god and greater thirds
both in a trash bag
not meant for children)
less than one


l'a-r0