Praying

It doesn’t have to bethe blue iris, it could beweeds in a vacant lot, or a fewsmall stones; justpay attention, then patcha few words together and don’t tryto make them elaborate, this isn’ta contest but the doorwayinto thanks, and a silence in...

The Sibyl

Everything on this journeyis destined, though unplanned.What you call my madnessis the food of my life.The silvered meshbetween the worldsdoesn’t really exist for me.I never go over.I am there already.It is easy, like parting a sheen of water,an animal floating...

Always Mine!

Always Mine!No more Vacation!Term of Light this Day begun!Failless as the fair rotationOf the Seasons and the Sun.Old the Grace, but new the Subjects –Old, indeed, the East,Yet upon His Purple ProgrammeEvery Dawn, is first.

The Lives of the Heart

Are ligneous, muscular, chemical.Wear birch-colored feathers,green tunnels of horse-tail reed.Wear calcified spirals, Fibonaccian spheres.Are edible; are glassy; are clay; blue schist.Can be burned as tallow, as coal,can be skinned for garnets, for shoes.Cast shadows...

Dew (from Love’s Seven Names)

Dew is a name under which Love works:When that Fire has burned up all in its violence,The dew falls, imparting moisture everywhereLike a strong wind of unheard-of sweetness.It calls forth the kiss of noble naturesAnd gives them constancy in the midst of...