When the sun lists languid along the mountains
And seers the heather in indian reds,
I look back and over what I think I remember
To reveal the tension of evening
Aching within the bloody heart of my name.
Stars plurality, the awakening, the concealing
Man's sleight of hand, building, imploding,
This native narrative, this life-world of me
Quivering under the probe
Of an amorphous eve.
Dialectic times a thousand
Gives some perspective and relief
A plethora of eye-mind games
A flow of wind rustling leaves
After the falling, a new origin
of growth, a new mask upon the world
The death of still-birth.
The schema of time and the spectrum of colour;
the fervour of search in the dark of the mirror
Myriad text beyond the conceit
of the deducto-pyramid.
When the sun lies languid
And seers the heather in indian reds
I look back and over
And try to remember
the tensions of evening
the telos of name,
which I pound into place
With the fervour and colour
of a searcher
No longer at one with his face.