Irkallas White Caves

I believe that a young

Is standing in a circle of

In the other side of the sky.

In a little while I must carry her the

Which only fade here; and she will not

If my hands are not very full.          ±Fiery antlers toss within the forests of

And ocean’s plaintive

Echo the tread of celestial feet.

O the beautiful eyes stare down…What have we done that we are blessèd?

What have we died that we hasten to God?                            ±And all the animals are asleep

In their separate caves.

Hairy bellies distended with their kill.

Culture blubbering in and

Like the breath of a stranded fish.

Crucifixion in wax.

The test-tube messiahs.

Immaculate fornication under the smoking

Of a dead world.                            I dig for my death            in this thousand-watt dungheap.            There isn’t even enough clean air.

To die in.            O blood-bearded destroyer!          In other times…          (soundless barges float          down the rivers of death)          In another heart          These crimes may not flower…          What have we done that we are blessèd?          What have we damned that we are blinded?                             ±Now, with my seven-holed head

On the air whence comes a fabulous

To take his place among the spheres—The air which is

And the mariner who is sheep—I

Upon myself like a bird over flames.

All my nightbound juices sing.

Pop out of unexpected places and the long            light lances of waterbulls plunge            into the green crotch of my native land.

Eyes peer out of the seaweed that gently

Above the towers and salt gates of a lost world.                              ±On the other side of the skyA young woman is

In a circle of lions—The young woman who is

And the lions which are death.