contrapuntal

from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (24)

in the turn of dawn and dusk’s

vague half-light night becomes

neither herself nor the other

but a transitory beast slavering

wildly ahead or at the heels

of the raging sun

                                    shadows pulse

through me with celestial fire

each rock leaf flower

each grain of sand vibrates

in resonance the textures

of the world

                        I am all I am

and all I am not a conduit

for violent streams which fall

silent into a churning sea

(February 6, 2020)

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