between Words –

I weave sticks together with string hanging them in birch-

trees as notices to the spirits which gather around; bending

back I peer into the canopy wondering why the water is

so still there near the rocks; sudden

protestations of a marvelous undoing wrack my

nerve with an unasked revival I cannot surrender

I will be poised and deliberate

beneath this mask of a star-clustered Night here hurting

in sense and sinew the altar of

my youth rich with Sacrifice -- What worlds are

these, created in

a handshake cousin to our bloodline these

mute and deferential children

nuanced with a subtle fervor? Can

we walk a straight line

here with quartets playing in our Minds the

instrumentation

of our gloried ache the backdrop

to our theatre

bursting forth with declamation

and arrival?