this is the waterfall crumbling
   into fast heaps of
stone and foam
dying among fishes

this is the desert
  and once it flowered
this is the desert
and once it was forest
this is the desert 
and once it was love

this is the singing
to bring life back
  to the barren places
this is the traverse of the sand dunes
 singing as they travel 
 wanting to be undone

this is the snowfield
 fallen on memory
turning its love of white
 to  ice
this is the sinking of mountains
snow weighting the rock 
on which it has fallen

this is the rising mist
of imagination
the veil of intent
itself hidden by eyelids
 hidden by the pilgrimage of logic
 revealed in glimmerings
by the pilgrimage of dreams

this is the song shrine
 of bones and skulls
this is the wind singing
through eye sockets
chanting through the open jaw

this is the created world 
planted in revery
nurtured by attention
 and nourished by choice
this is the world
expired from the lungs
of the goddess 
into song


wait.  there is virtue in
the clock hands no longer circle
 its face
line forms ahead
aligned   the better to
wait.  something happens
  in the absence of weather
    rain and light  halted mid-
fall  into stasis.  wait.
there is something I’ve been meaning 
 did you?  were you?
identifying scars and marks
  shined while you wait
this imprint upon my
impression waits.
 for expression

the rain and light
fall again