no smokes,
only thin aire,
blue when she ain't white.

warmth on a cold cheek.
mountain cedar incense.
raven tells stories to lake.

below, stone faces.
stone eyelids.
stone ears.
stones without walls,
soft.

once, remembering her-
the wind got mixed in.
she sings everywhere:

"what's it like out there?"

but there's no smokes,
only thin aire and
this smile.

the cedar fence beyond the hay,
yellow-brown with creeping lichen.
rusted wire.
arrows.

here is the temple, the book
of ages, says the woodpecker,
red crested.

here is the baptism, the liturgy,
says the brown trout.

cold beads of fog accumulate
on leaves, in the hollow of
neck and on
eyelashes.

blinking,
they fall.

6/24/8

i asked him how to deal with
an angry hombre.
he got up and let a bee out
the window.

and when i asked him how people could
be so damned mean,
he answered, "it's not that it don't rain in the desert, son,
but that the desert's where there's been no rain."

and he talked of the flower that draws
both what it needs and what most needs it.

and he showed me the strong table whose
legs were fastened under it rather than beside.

all these things he gave me.

and i asked him how to
set myself useful.

he handed me a shovel and
a trowel, saying,
"to pour a foundation,
you gotta mix the mortar and
water just so. too much of
either and the cement
just
crumbles."

the faceless ones, outside-
in, come across the sea in
backwards longships.

they cage the eagle in rock.
the bull they chain to the sea.
they burn the lion with fire.
and the cherubs' wings they clip.

but the wren escapes-
becoming stone, sea,
flame and sky.

she calls from inside-out.
puts names to the faceless golems:
alder,
oak and
holly.

now what bound,
shades.

(in response to, "how do you give thanks?")

hello in there thou
crazy cities of organs!

and hello in there thou
carpenter bee amoebas!

hello in there thou
slippery hedgehog particles!

and hello in here thou
marvelous planetoid people!

hello out there thou
Mystery!

the gate is open, open OPEN!
hello hello HELLO!