Friday, December 29, 2006


All roads lead
into the fog of God now

roads unwalkable in full flesh
or flower

so tell me, then,
what roosts what rests
on stripped branches
what annunciation, seed or less

who goes there

a pilgrim honed
to sacrum & scapula

a seraph of cast-off glands
and brown paper

with what and on what
shall I write this

with ink from a drowned rind
on water
on whited stubblefield

No comments: