MIRFAK

Summer ending as a life does, those
invisible stars sputter & deign to fall
like metal balls into a wooden maze,
the angel rotor of amassing hours
swirling stolid firmament like the glowing loci
of a ferris-wheel, no recourse but
to cement the spine to the world's rough
skin, its gloss as even grapes fall
from the arbor. Every bright, every dark
thing must go this way, every vessicle
aswell for the turning year, the falling
sky, the silver pupa of a sleeping bag
oceanside as the steam of mussels at last,
alas, alights for good: the sun, bastard,
growing wan, the land seeping toward
those countries of night: black Saturn
bower of the lady abhorrent:

Tho you, hero, stuck fast to the glue
that holds the whole welter together:
no firebringer or mere mellifluous
surfer, you compass-needle, bion-
rider--every verebra aglint with Elmo's
fire, cavern-lighter, you holy naked
infant smiting binaries weak as
fruit, no god or no rigid mortal:
spasm-ghost, you are meat, a damp wind,
an electric worm who crawls along
the curves of god's old name.