Capra

His are the garlanded miles

His the tables of peace

Break against his teeth, burning flesh

Enfold you in his arms, coming soul

Such are the panels of his radiant doom

Such is his machinated loom of allbeginning

and such the golden floss, his breathing net—

—coins cut to ship’s wheels

fitted and fingerlocked for cogworks

spindles of shining rods

bristling from whirling prisms

doors beating against their hinges

like the backs of damselflies

bearing up against the needful air

turning, all turning, all

near misses

perfect friction

engine of blossoming solace

temple to motion and space—

Rise witness, and look:

His touch opens skies for mountain’s homes,

fells forests for a striving root,

divides and seals the earth and sea together.

O pain to make the joy grow dearer!

O stairs of the sun below the secret night!

Spine of the glorious present,

Icon of icons, pillow of stone!

Robe for the ready!

Wings of the endless

of the endless

Breeze off the lake.

Twinge in the left knee. 

Laughter. Memory of home. 

Schedule.

of the endless

Schedule. 

endless

The skin of the world resumes. 

Shake off the certainty,

take in the waves. 

Something about light, and gold.

Machinery. Music. —song out of tinny pipes.

Doors and wheels.

The only one: the only:

Lost it like a dream

a dream

take in the waves

his are the garlanded miles

Smile. Fill.

Sparkling waters are waters still.