ranging from rage to rages,

sinister as a tree
in th'moonless, murder like a remark,

between the brave & the boar, the
bored, bloodied by the
nibblings of sorrows, my siblings, witnessing

th'passing golden phantoms of The Wise
and Time like a tiger, and
the bristling hare

that is Man, all the ghostly panels of
Deliverance around me like a
Church a-million-miles-per-hour

& crickets over the chassis, I have come
to this place, in wonder, blown

the coffin upon the coughing, O
th'mutterings-smitten, upon
The Awe of the breezes, anonymous, the
misread Unrecoverable, unrecovered

the murky diamond tempting
th'trumpets of the stillness like some trick,

hushing all the broken prodigies
scattered around the darkness like
stumps, O like th'lamps of Death

    ... caught
in the confluence of the curious
angels of The Good & the demons

of impatience, I have come, to this place
in wonder, to this Fall like flotsam, where

no sooner had my feet been
lifted from the support they'd enjoyed

than all the steps the Morning
had taken (to reach me) became
lit rockets! and took off--leaving me
without a choice of world, mislaid

th'choices of my life like shadows against
the shining of a being without having
arrived: Here have I come, in wonder,

O Morning, exhausted, dreams like some strangers
catching the sunshine callous, which

skimming over the cattails, burns our
fancy with a terrible splendor,

lightnings upon our likings, I have
come in wonders & yet ever-longing to take

a step further into the clicking
and fearing to perish breathless amidst
th'spent currents of this smothering, &

urged on by everyman's fears (that
Time still left you is untenable, my
man) breaking against the headways of

Happiness! wringing out every inch
of distance & harboring
that personal dread, all so profound &

powerful enough to drag you beneath
th'pauses, I have come, blown
in the coughing of Th'Wind

& realizing that it is my very departure
brings absolute Destruction to this place of

wonder, this monumental I (-ness)

that excludes th'Worlds it passes, that
pains where it pauses, that
chases backwards against the Morning towards

the Darkness of its mother, slumping
deeper & deeper into th'Spring of All its desirings

swimming th'rhythms of its dreams, the
cosmic whirlwinds, admiring the ridiculous
small rills (like reals) hanging

Th'Wonder ... that Morning of the world
hung by the neck, pressed upon The Inward by ^[sic]

a Desolation draping The Winter in
its spoiling concentration, now, too

late, too barren, too full of cares, too knowledgeable
for (the vain) action! still shaking
in its traction... O who knows

what Darkness hunts Th'Hunter
lost without the Light
(that inconceivably callow--the color
of Lack), hanging by the neck from

some known yet unknowable limb of a tree
in the moonless, the tiger of Time

nibbling at th'hair of Night's gob

that raging from range to ranges, comes to
what place? in wonder, blown (or was it

mislaid) a Oneness!

always asking Who was th'Morning?
hanging by the neck from the limb of a tree
growing from The Mother Darkness
of all being?... &            

why hangs She th'Morning
of all?... Th'Morning that blossoms

lovely out of The Bosom of Innocence, tell me, O

my Soul, what crimes have ever
by her, been committed--Yet, in her trek, lie
scattered Th'Shattered remains of Man--

O such a row of littered lives, individual,

thinking they are The Seeds of Th'Twilights
because they're forever winking, & all

so eagerly waiting for her to pour down
her meaningful directions into their misguided

days--They're getting drunk on the
madness of pressing matters & end it

with this Song: What set of unjust Laws
of Man, have thrown Th'Morning into
such a row of--            

O it can't just be that we are
ignorant of Who th'Morning is?... I have come

almost in sadness, always in want, although
in wonder, wandering & wondering

if with our tears we are not clouding up Th'Spheres
of The Universal, of               

      all Life, which traveling
above us, scintillant, bright & clear, are
with their so even being (showing
us down here)

how little of The Dawn
we're really seeing...