in the loop of the grayness wheel





being of the earth, one part of valor

is to stay close to the heart of things

on the flip side of a scarred wall perhaps

but with a compulsive kind of ease;

a winnow of bird wings strew

grainy motes in predawn stealth

impel a momentum in the

serried loop of the grayness wheel


earth is on its aphoristic path and

I wait for the breeze to bell a voice

but it is only the unrelenting shorn leaf

the blown-away word that it brings;

my inheritance is this skin sac

and in it the mind’s graven light

with its stele of wounded rules

a subtle amplitude of being;  


the avowal is that others

humble in pain, dole out seed

thresh, store, leaven bread

sweep out the rancid street

soften the river into my jug

allocate tax, dip into sleepless snarls  

guide pressure pegs to dewy points

in unmapped meadow                                                    



so I may gather nebulous chips

in my tray and play easy, 

indebted yet free;      

I must have fancied it all

this need to path a usage

of flesh, this tonal hub 

in the zoetrope’s vermeil riffle

notching a winsome trail


a dream dove could revel in,

cresting arias

exploring split-rhythms

epiphany of runes,    

to woo living bark fizzy with sap

in a maze of wonder where

every element has a shadow to walk in

every stir of lore a name;


but mere sap is not enough, it must

rise luminous with love, expend

reclaim, nest a newness, there being

no other way to sculpt this miracle, this life–

like a fire-anointed moth

I must have numbed a guise

of flame, to cull a flute of words

in impetuous chase,


settled for a let-live anarchy

the sorrowing dust of homesteads

earth-tones transient as

herons combing the dying light,

to drown in a rare mizzle, a broken sun

in every drop, where silence

like a fawn, arches its velvet neck

toward a fragrance of bluebells, 


to read the story of the drudging million, rapport

a mind-space, a thirst longing to assuage

always ahead of the next heartbeat

with the efficacy of a prayer-wheel,

to poise an ankh on a megalith’s blazing core

for oracles to exult, wellsprings to cluster

with racemes of primal ore, the bezel glow  

of a dulcet chime, another oscillation 


one more phenomenal trajectory

and the grayness wheel will toss

my tesserae whole again, then again, then again.


What are you looking for?