III
Trees branch under water
Yes nests inside the yes
breathes, triangulates, bivalves
A song
Each song spawns another
Universe, the size of a grapefruit.
A tiger, in a shock of vision,
tamed into a clock
now a story is linear
and spawns new universe
new yes
Each has a shepherd
who carves two universes
on an aspen
each universe has a bark
with cradle until the two
universes grow and mesh
there are spoils in each,
follow the storks & silver
foxes basking in the cemeteries.
Each universe has saints and poems
& seven other dimensions
Each poem spawns a new poem
With oils and wicks
Cherries and figs
Of dark
Each universe has pasture and precipice
Each universe has a pocket universe
A string quartet in your heart
Each universe has St George with dragon.
Each universe has beauty
terror and teeth
The beauty gnaws
tramples the clock
spawns a tiger
VII
The fox had his mind made up before the flood. We domesticated the fox by feeding him the leaves of Bible. We confused prayer for a sunrise. We went barefoot in the snow. We made him a flaming savior. He hunts like a saint. Each muscle, a prayer; clasped in attention. Triangulates, cocks, each muscle fulfills its destiny. Caress. Arch. Cocks. Triangulates. An arc of wu wei to find that point in space. Astute dive towards innocence. Fox eats like a saint. Making music with its bone. With seven doors, a mouse under the snow. Fox avoids hunters, puts branches in the holes and when attacked by snakes, will turn its back and
bite the snake’s head, swing it
against the tree.
It bites the snake’s head,
it swings it against the marigold tree into its sainthood.
Fox, a word we did not catch by its tail
to break the silence
XXVI
Pieces of gold – smelted, malleable, shaped in wax of little angel bees
burnished to reflect light. Unpolished we trap too much light
and become ghosts.
We carry vessels
to the graves.
When a person dies,
Colombians put jars with water
around the house
for the soul to quench its thirst.
We need to tame water by building canals.
Birds peck the water.
Priests, condors in flight.
One needs to catch their messages
of feathers – –
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