In this scene you crawl like a spider trying to catch the wind
snow perplexed by a blue sky
while branches shake from the weight of it
your sense of direction is abandoned
into the once puzzling provincialism
to exhibit resonanting partially
they only cover their mistakes
by swimming even more seductively toward you
you become the subtlest of superfluous
as your daily thought and feeling grow fleeting
and infinitely self-perpetuating and impossibly more resilient
ready to alight on steepled sand in lamplight
even though you live by the sea
you no longer dream of fragile roads
on islands of mythical syntaxes
you still climb two sets of stairs but have blurred them
if anything goes amiss you resort to the simple design
of standing in bright light unthreading far flung ideas
until the letters run from your skin
Sometimes they feel like separate grains of sand
of clouds pulled to earth sifting to the center
blending peacefully finally in their own relation
while along some horizons light shines from distant hills dreamt
along others this or that mythic shell complicit with their desire
thinks to wear a mask soaked in the rays of their eyes
of scattering uncanny fingerprints to unreal skirmishes
clearing the way for a more or less ruthless actual history
of misunderstanding these lands that climb upwards with the smoke
from the result of an instant sending signals how a new story
and its recipients bend each others bodies off the ground
outside the book bathed in blind light and love
new hands at all hours pages turning at all hours
upending your whisper rhythmic and turning forth
behind the breeze on your ear on your throat
an unworked mass of visionaries
bent back slowly like a sapling filled heavy with faith
kneeling only where faces find comfort
in the wall that unhinges impassioned where wisdom stirs
you can surrender devoted to the ritual
or you can integrate this fire and become a vital sorcerer; remain unknown
HS
