O Ancient, I am drunk on the voice
that breaks from your mouths when they unfold
like green bells, then collapse,
The house where I spent my summers long ago
stood, you know, at your side,
there in that land of searing sun where the
air goes hazy with mosquitoes.
petrified by your presence then as now,
I think myself not worth the grave admonition
of your breath. You told me as a child
the petty ferment
of my heart was merely a moment
of yours; that your perilous law
lay deep in within me; to be vast and various,
but unchanging too,
and so cleanse myself of every foulness.
You showed me how, hurling onto the beaches
sea-wracked starfish cork, all
the waste of your abyss.