A pinprick in the starry curtain
Where light shone through
Like an incandescent blade
A spirit prowled on the edge of heaven
Snarling between bars
With an ancient and dark disquiet
Catching a corner of fabric in his teeth
The spirit pounded and tore
To remove it like carpet
The earth was thrown into convulsions
And violent swells shattered across the sky
So the terror of the spirit was felt by all
The infant light was upset from her cradle
And cast out like loose grain
Into a foreign corner of the field
Amid the mad universal drumming
She cried like an abandoned child
And twisted herself into the breathing soil
Her sisters danced around her in a circle
Leaping barefoot and shouting for the hour
The Undying Sleeper would come to reap
At the edge of night, the edgeless spirit
Put forth once more his shattered hand
And struck against the timpani of years
Your name is divinity—eternal graven image
Of some dark god forgotten by man,
Forsaking any question why your journey began
You spin on the invisible rim of gravity, a presage
Of the oblivion that will return to swallow intention.
Your name is serenity—chasing the invisible tail
Of your own silent footsteps going before
And following behind; mountains of ocean gore
Spill on earth’s shore, staining the invisible trail
Of destruction left in your fearful rejection of stillness.
Your name is clarity—ever-shifting face
Of light tempered with darkness, an old broken
Mirror ever half-seen, half-unseen; the lesser token
Casts abroad its borrowed glow in place
Of greater light to strive against the stars.
Your name is purity—clothed in the snowy white
Of sinews, scars, and skin already bled
By stony missiles thrust into your cratered bed,
Who naked every night is led in the sight
Of the great horned owl and the laughing jackal.
Your name is eternity—the orb orbits the orb
Orbits the Orb in praise of infinite space
And sings with wild impunity while dancing in place,
“Never dream of the arc that will absorb
Your own, no matter how red its fires shine.”
Your name is fertility—a cold, colorless waste
Of marble dust and the namesake of monthly blood
Dried and pounded into chalk, filth, and black mud;
Womb of graven goddesses without a taste
Of air or the gentle touch of seeds in spring.
Your name is mystery—slender and coquettish darling
Of earth, whose flesh too fond of fondling eyes
Remains too cheap to sell without disguise,
That dwindling shade you clutch about the scarring
Of your frame betrays your bones to the sun’s flame.
Your name is lunacy—the pale fleshy flavor
Of your lidless eyes is slave to hollow tongues
And thankless lips; pouring into withered lungs
Your purest white kisses, you waste the favor
Of each lunar dawn that weeps over your horizon.
Your name is humanity—celestial oneness born
Of shattered terra, mangled and misshapen world
Perfect in form and symmetry: an infant curled
In the womb of space descends into the coming morn.
Of light and in light she sings and dreams that her name is—
Fold their wings and sing their lullabies
Plant themselves in fragrant grasses
Dewy drops on their eyelashes
Whisper to the world, “Goodnight.”
Rest their hands on dresses white
Close their eyes
Fold your weary wings without a word
Dream of sun and open sky
There you’ll fly
As you lie
Silent in your ocean bed
Made of lilies painted red
Don’t be heard
Fold their wings
Never will you hear a sound
From their cradles underground
You won’t hear them - they’re not there
They’re floating in the morning air
They are flowers
My children are the rain
Watering this thirsty planet.
At the cry of the earth they leap up
And fly to dry places,
Cooling burning tongues
And wetting parched lips.
Their mother is the air
Who bears them from the sky
And like the wind moves on
With a kiss like empty glass.
Our embrace was an empty room.
Our passion, stillness.
Our children became the rain.
They beat against the glass
And fell trickling to the floor.
At the cry of the earth they were swept up
And carried to distant lands.
They are dashed against stones,
Lapped up by dogs, and
Collected in bowls for the sun to soak up
Like tears in an old man’s eye.
i asked a little stone,
“do you know what it is
to be alone
still waiting for an answer
i learn silence.