The Rune Reading in Autumn's Red

Turning, light and rush
of liquid memory caught in
my summer's end, the glances of eye
brushing with gentle lash upon the skin
of the book's pages.

Color of wheat in autumn's rain
tinges the vision, the writer of listings
listing in the seat, in vibrato of the chanting, rolling

tongues and parting lips
meeting in permutational interlock
and release, spilling the icons of action
upon the skin

of the book's pages.

From leaves coiled in leather
arises word in thought's smoke,
turning, 'volving and slipping
in upon itself and out, spreading

into voids-between

Inhaled in the upshoot,
fitting key & lock in nerves'
endless branches, alighting fires
upon the grey-floor of the ancient bonework;

The air becomes electric laughter, rising.

The View of Earth & Sol from the ISS, Nov. 22

On Navigation

Over red-iron mountains of wrought age
through tangled weed of million-years,

the mover glides and falls some.

Looking at the span
of possible permutation,
experience of other
is of utmost sacrament, no time
or space for anything less;

Choosing the collection of ports,

there are Universal Gates
to consider... each
working in context
of the individual's
unique permutations,

And thus openings create

lines of chosen action,
bifurcating, exponential,

and very possibly
aligned with the free-fall of
stars.

The mover dips and glides,
leaps and looms,
gallops, dancing,

and falls some.

Iris Unfurl

Allure through open windows drew
forth the eyes,
heavy with sand and rain
from the nights' storms;

scented wind, of dew and ion
washed within and over,
revealing
spaces without four walls.

Time, passage
through rough hewn tunnels
of memory and motion, accumulated
gestures soon called the heavy eyes

with shade
and echoes,
wordless
and primal.

To the symposium to be supposed
were not all present, but suggested;
suggestive of the internal
where union is clean, well adjusted;

An old scribe notes
and compiles, sure and ready
in communion with the regency
of enacted trials.

The work proceeds
with letters to write
and temples to quarry;
Beloved to be honoured!

Aura of Change

I sought the remedy,
and it came without sound.

Quickly, presenting a picture
of what needed
to be done.

Overwhelming tasks
are accomplished in
steps.

One, then two,
then infinitely more
to come and
go;

each step, dissolution
and reformulation.

I let the shades drop
one by two, allowance
of new form
through and
through,

edging closer
to the crowning acheivement,
a new grave being dug for passing
fragements of what I could have
been.

Letting them flow,
letting them go,
letting them fly
unto clouds of thought
which change in the wind.

I am blown away.

Mortality of Thought

smooth mountain rising in my dream,
what tales do you bring?

Removed of fir, creatre, and spring,
your stone rises without life.

I dreamt of bulging earth tonight,
without life within or without;

There are few days left to count...

Last of the Day's Shimmer

Further afoot, the gatherer
covers ground, searching fields
of market and niche for the kill

Or seeding to till, fresh sprout
or tender shoot to guard.

No birds in the yard,
and the oven's nearly burnt.

Simmering, shimmering fumes
bedeck the haze of sunset
through the screen.

It's now coming forth in song -- move!

Ursa Soi

i.

Land of grown form
beneath softened feet,

breathing mist of
soil and green,
a haze past noon.

Tilling, revealing, churning,
and sifting soil from root,
I came upon the treasure
of time, the golden royal fruit.

ii.


A coiling dancer, matter darkened
and damp, eased lithe and curved;

brain and bone, the sinew bending
in pump and blood, sweat, the work of action.
Steam, and cooling salts to sink the heat
bathe the shadow-screen witness in kinetic vapours.

iii.

The gases of proportional thought
crsytalize in the alembic, faithfully
prepared for dissolution. Again,
and still further -

the eyes open
in nested wonder -
fourwise, then up.

See! Seeing
the hawk see,

Listen.

Compression

Echoes, returning visitors of nerve's traffic,
children of body's past empires
greet the dawning mind;

the moment of repeated wheels afresh
bubbling up in ecstatic union,

these memories dissolving,

Wake me to new visions.
A moment's hostage of condition
quakes the grip of sight,

saturated in the flood of
singing scrolls, the ear cannot cleave.

The array'd pallet of scenery calls the mover to motion.

Arts of an Arrow

A.

Familiar friends through a veiled door,
I'm set to waking
through slumber.

No sense of exact measures,
the teapot is humming with vague whistle.

Time is cleaving the air.

B.

Trace -- silhouette of former image
luring the eye in a torus-dance, by
degree, resolution snaps in.

Webbed currents of pathways past,
leaping forth with harvest and feast;

budding deep in singular action.