I. Presence & Vitality

The poet holds the vision Like a still. In the practice of observing Nature’s experience.

Invisible vase, everywhere Holding measures of light; Within light, Presence.

A turning eye, World Upon which the bud bursts, Glooming greens, pinks, and blues.

In the slanted room of pure colors, The veil of pure white Is upon the ancient flower.

Suspension: a noon, a day, an hour. A drink both bitter and sweet To the draught, the body swims; Drinks and is drunk.

This light, savored by the poet; swilled In the mouth of all becoming. Gill-like, Upon the wings of a stone titan: Sprouting apperceptions Of the green of the tree’s vital power.

The poet, fat on golden love Is the ant in the burrow Or the nerve of the leaf Who stumbles upon the eye of the marrow And enriches the gleaming With unity

II. Clothing

I heard in the breach, down through the leaf The screaming of the toll of the hell-bells. Shouting, iron smelted Through the seconds.

Masking and unmasking, Dionysos takes off his cloak; Gazes with impenetrable, unblinking red eyes. Why do women lust, and men war? And spiders silk and loam in their nests, Far away in the sundry shade?

We are waiting, basking in the glacial Semen-honey For the arrival. We must pass forth; Into the realm of the shadow, Carrying our great load.

No more, these burdens. The Promethean poet Writes verse on the crags of dawn, far away in the Alps. Wide swaths of snow cover his black boots In measures of song.

Fermenting in caves, lies the mystery. Nature’s word, cloth for the precious, living embryo. Given time, all costumes are thrown off for the sparkling river. Away is Death, Simply, In a summer rain.

Time must leap. In the waving leaves, This ore is polished. The awakening of the wild god From stony prisons.

This call of life, our guide. Wild, wandering: Leopard in the oasal brush. All forms sleeping; Touched by the seed of thunder.

Green veins, soaking With yellow-white heat.