EVOCATION

“The sound that pours from the fingertips awakens clouds of cells far inside the body”

Robert Bly 1926-

You could say that the sound that tips deep cells are waking

heralds with bugles divine revolution

You could say that the sound that echoes from spirals

gossamers emeralds’ scintillant light

You could say that the sound that squishes from mangoes

is luscious and opulent tripping with pearls

You could say that the sound that slumbers in harp strings

howls round the polar bear’s tumaceous couch

You could say that the sound that tremors from tadpoles

triggers eruptions of undersea mountains

You could say that the sound that sits on the windowsill

on Arcturus flickers as icicle fire

You could say that the sound that bounces off drumskins

loosens the shackles of acuate cacti

You could say that the sound that shivers off rainbows

silkens red poppies at sunstrike unpacking

You could say that the sound that rumbles round moonrocks

passes on purple to stillness of shadows

You could say that the sound that echoes cicadas

crackles through canyons of memory rising

You could say that the sound that gallops through nightmares

shrinks in the face of the falcons glissade

You could say that the sound that is diatomaceous

tangles up synapses sparking at random

You could say that the sound of deep cells awakening

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