AEAEA
Recurring Dream Island

December 2004
 
 

3 December 2004
 

Magic-Fraught
 

Seeming lost, you were far, oh—never.
We raised sore dripping sunburst-eyes
where trees stood high, hanging laden heavy
branches over a chasmed sky
false planes can’t fracture.  Our more than steady
light shone freely and does and will
all down through—Loneliest time in leaden
leaking clouds and sounds of shrill
displeasure, find me.  Tell with me how he
signals still, then help me hear
his zero hour’s annointed crowning
confidence:  It whispers we’re
about to know the joy, the fragrant
zone your leaves sing hushed and taut
with almost trembling.  How this makes our
moist dreams meet us, magic-fraught.
 

***
 

5 December 2004
 

It Comes Hardly Softly
 

We’re fingers all down the white back, the fine skin-slope
we only flew over once, love-lengths ago.
Its plane was a pasture wine rivers led into;
now it is hollowed and hilled with blown snow,
though as fragrant as fields a late spring has left dizzy.
Where shall we wander its hexagons next,
we wide-ranging secret-song-readers whose drifting
desires are deciphered and drawn by this text
so obsessively, swiftly remembered?  Strange nerve-strings
uncoil out of time-twisted series of knots
to divine a sensation so joyous, whose earthly
arrival has been so obstructed by thoughts
of such numbness, mere ice fairly melts at the turn of
that flesh-rendered slope as its strong fibers glow
amid self-shifting lights—Oh, this body whose yearning
comes over us—comes to our own senses so!