203
haphazard
because
the weather stopped
and there
I was in the open
afoot
and come
for
abroad so
sheltering
much of
it makeshift
and all
the mysteries
as stream
and sky
each in
its own words
in bones
of ache
a
wilderness
of wings
aflit
I passed
through
all the
former lives
how this
was painted
that was
snapped
how I
scribbled down
all the
truths
were hard
at me
as if
some such
were
brought to bear
we're all
of the ancient text
orbit
wobbly here and there
revolutions
every night
denouement
first light too
all the
weather's stopped here
and all
the weather's good
I'd
rather be stuck in my world
than any
other known
Superb
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