Deep in the oval aura once I lay
My spires were tinged with gray
(Over my eye: a bridge, as on a river)
Into the aura and back to the clay
The soil is frost-proof
Its eyes are dingy gray
There is a flat cloud round about us
My feet (standing) are feet of clay
The babbling brook rushes in all my veins
This is the slow breathing of the vasty deep
This is the cloud wrapped round about us
This is the will-o’-the-wisp in the wind
With hues my eyes are crystal hard
Flesh, fire, and mud, out in the hunting yard
The erotic horns in, heat seeking peace keeper
The tremors are felt in the bearded forest
Time is a little box with bells
And every tinkle is another death knell
Coming like rain, cleansing the flesh
Swelling proud organs of plants
Amazed, I place
My hand upon the thing
And am that thing.
Its energy flows in my blood.
The spirit flows between us,
One substance.
written 1986