XX
what does death
then shake from its sleeve that we do not know
a moth-eaten riddle
a map for a thousand greedy eyes
a dragon’s music
which everyone hears but no one understands
a tower of cloud
that buries all our echoes
a cripple’s
engraved nameplate in the spring of springs
and the pillars’
stone-heavy defiance in the sun-temple’s forecourt
a demon that roams
disguised in the lull of fear
and the ocean’s
long slit-eyes with a gleam of belladonna
and a rain’s
whistling for the farm’s put-down dog
harshly out of tune
like a called-off miracle
and yet disappointment
must once more give birth to light
wonderfully,
unexpectedly like an old man on the roof of spring
and the flesh
becomes word and revelation blossoms
and the orbits of
the planets slash the unsuspecting eye
For the entire cycle in English, go to here.
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