Teacher of my poem

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

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