there's a tremble at the edge of

every which world--as one and none

gathered round a fire spits snowy

sparks.

into skies that pass on skies--same

yet different in eyes made single.

swearing to no end that you are here--

set down to look up.

clear as the cold draft of magic--spelling

words.

doorways for the protusions of bodies--

held slow in their long fast.

searched for something other than meaning.

as curves catch on to their circle, and holes

moan black--spirituality offers the most

ironic grin.

earthy as ether in the quaternity of face.