the moon counting its delicate birds
shapes the seed to what i wanted
come back to see the feeding of the bell
alters the dream in its dark blue cloth
then the cage breaks apart and flies away
drinks rain from blood in the trees
kneels in my hand after climbing up the rain
ferries the island to its blind stone heads
promised the nameless their own door
weeps sand into the shadow with opened eyes
wept a black vulture into the valley of bones
melts into prayer across the skin of a thorn
waits with a touch in the corridor outside my dream
wakens the voice behind glass at the top of the sea
the color that comes back as windflower
the first sunrise will go on asking an older fire