Shades of the winter moon
distill the sky
into a foretaste of the arising:
the emergent forest tapestry
of dissonant souls
Time stands in full motion
still for this year,
and the fruit of an ancient labor
demands the stage of many rounded plateaus
in whose caverns resonate
the affirming strands of pearl . . .


Vague remnants find the secret eye space
where slowly they are supported
each among the others
shoulder to shoulder
among themselves as brothers
tied about the wings
in a bondage they do not decry,
mystery and wisdom
throb the space between them
like nations on a day of peace
these scraps of velvet
cast their silken lines
and fish out of a holy cup
certain seamings—
I would not want to show them
but in a mirror of priceless hue.

Things of ransomed life
haunt each other’s shells
as they dance the plan
they thought so long ago.