•
Corroded by the undreamed
covered with footprints of sleepless wandering,
the breadland throws open the mountain of life.
From its crumbs
you knead anew our names -
with an eye
equal to yours
on each finger,
I feel them for
a place through which
to keep vigil for you,
the brilliant
hunger candle between my lips.
•
With their masts singing earthwards,
the wracks of heaven are sailing.
You sink your teeth
into their wooden hymns.
You are the pennant
resisting song
•
Pale filament of suns
over the gray- black wasteland.
A thought tree-high
is stretching to grasp the tone of their light: there are
songs yet to be sung beyond
man.
