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Get a copy of this writing in the Mark Fleury 2017 poetry book the Eight Wheeled Doorway of Serpent’s Head on line:

Toward Orange Nights

Mark Fleury

Toward orange nights
In your furrowed

Lake, your language is every umbrella,
And the rain the years you spend dying.

I’ll remove the knobs

From your earliest rain clouds

Where they’re touching the land

Of naked doors, and show you,
Through the open eye, who is neglected:

The Angel Muse.

Where inhale shares the exhale is
Ego’s third eye, a diamond line window. The ray

Is the resistance in your lungs,

A night and day eye that replaces
The lake above your nose
With the depth of a snake’s
Oceanic name: poem, an active heart.

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