Psalm

No-man kneads us again out of Earth and Loam,
no-man spirits our Dust.

No-man.

Praise to you,

No-man.

For love of youwe will flower.

Movingtowards you.

A Nothingwe were, we are, we shallbe still, flowering:
the Nothing-,

No-man’s-rose.

Withour Pistil soul-bright,
our Stamen heaven-torn,
our Corolla redwith the Violet-Word that we sangover,

O overthe thorn.