Laynie Browne

L O S T    P A R K O U R   P S (A L M S)

Ps (alm)

A feathered mind is

a state, barricade, stump

What you can place in a pocket

is empire building or gown

Laying list of fears, ferns

Palm fronds across

A wooden frame

Hanging pomegranates and portraits, stringing lights

Please enter my festival dwelling

Unadorned folding

Customs

Blue Autumn

Not forgetting pocked floor and walls,

how adept, how adopt, alone, ward,

Does a non descript name lead to non descript verse?

Ps(alm) for Where You Live

A is another aviary with yellow bird

symptoms, aromatic and culling

Your window is curious

about the jackrabbit looking in

The mountains are Peruvian green, celadon

and Sirius, changing maidens of your

mood rising up into the light you affix

to a mantel

Scrying into rock or rhyming non-temperate

regions reply in unanimous monsoon

***

Ps(alm) for You

Reassurances aside can you tell me what I’m here for

Where for am I —art thou?

And is it true you fall from the sky

That breath is a cauldron of terrestrial memory

Mycelium feeds on granite and fog

and I upon you

Recurrences aside can you gather from these fathoms

of seemingly meaningless temperatures

That difficulty in reading the mind of a seed

is not a wish for sleep

That you can see the other side of such dormancy

Fledgling through to bower

***

Ps (alm) Other Than Itself_

You live where you aren’t; heavens, familiars

traverse such a sanctuary

If we were to exist entirely

I wouldn’t mind such absence

of known landscapes

Existence akin to remembrance

not blindness nor reason

Sanctuary assumes nothing

other than itself

If we were to enter

internally — exiting from the boisterous remains

of captive figments, catacombs

We live here also

below assumption,

between image and word

Further than any suggestion

Parkour ambulation, locomotive

You have been existing all along

***

Dark Mesh Crystal Ps (alm)

Where is that night I was reading

not crystallized but mesh dark clouds

Loudness and scattered tasks approaching

Drawing you from precipitate sleep

Lunging beneathe the cloth undressed

to any object of the word

Instead you courteously reclined and said

I am done, though you were beginning

to transfer yourself from the vertical

to the horizontal plane, whereas you’d rather recline

between texts embryonic, bemused, tucked

and not at all born