Dance along the delicately elongating night,
the quick whip of the wind, winds the dunes,
the sand sea-skates in whispers of the land’s
thirst, thin swifts on chalking cliffs, lift and lay
the day’s eclipse to the myth of metempsychosis
–
and how it sings in the hemlock of my minds veins
–
The fossils eyes on the black obsidian of my being
will remain in the solemn refrain of the winds way;
Unfastening the cobwebs of my broken, slaking mane
as the dunes melt into the land, that was the sea,
your musing perfume, the nakedness to swallow me
–
The dandelion’s dendrite dance of your thought
reflexive trance, is the dunes delight;
the rhythmic redress of the land
in the awaited monsoon
veils under the insatiable moon
and I,
I am words, clung to the earth
lost in the shade of my shadow
–
weightless for all I may weigh,
I sink slowly to float again
–
in the quicksand of language
