hear the mountains spring back into shape
their brown-blue sides winter lingers in crevices
the weaver of water a tinkle of god 
fish screech to water.
nobody’s salty tears fear wars over water 
listen to the lap-lap-lapping of the weedy Bure
sadly my song’s whiskey my sadness.
overwhelming my heart slows.
arrhythmia getting worse day-by-day
water peeled of impurity
forms patterns the dry floor
water makes my fingers slippy
grip buttons to undress.
polished by water mirrors
monstrocities of smoke
beyond all strictures
doused with water
sweet grapes and wine,
attracted my palate
significance grows like a vine
sell flowers outside graveyards 
muster a vote or two at election time
outside, a chapel 
dark Jerusalem vines