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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2002-09-16 | | Submited by Vasile Teodorovici Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue Pour of tor and distances. God's lioness, How one we grow, Pivot of heels and knees!--The furrow Splits and passes, sister to The brown arc Of the neck I cannot catch, Nigger-eye Berries cast dark Hooks---- Black sweet blood mouthfuls, Shadows. Something else Hauls me through air---- Thighs, hair; Flakes from my heels. White Godiva, I unpeel---- Dead hands, dead stringencies. And now I Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas. The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, The dew that flies, Suicidal, at one with the drive Into the red Eye, the cauldron of morning.
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