To feel days on
end as quivering
water...to wear air
as a body of
feathers.
To see an
egg in a snake's
mouth, whose
retractable jaws
slip a world
down its throat.
Gathers leavings of
light...
showing one
gently to the door.

Voice...of
wind and
wave, eyes...
of one washed
ashore, from
way too far
to tell.

Eyes as rolling
waves...
following
a shaping
thing
that Is...
&
ever shall
be,
transposed
ceremoniously.

The crushed
grape has
already
tasted of
the vine's
drunkenness.

All around, The Circle
colors itself.
A Circle too vast for
circumvention, only
the colors of centers
that give way.

As two palmfuls
of water hit
the face, and
hands run
down it...you're
already here.
Even before I
open my eyes,
more sober than
the soberest
reality.

Melting this
chest as a burning
polaroid...
those serpents
that hiss, those
doves downed
white.