melting tongues of the sound.
the shell of the house of the street of the
mountain the sea and the shell of the
child's eyes. Babel of water and
sand. . .saltyboned faces impossible to
hold. I thump at the door of a god
and sit in the haven of incense the
absurd neglected and there did the
absurd. Kneeling down on the hill of
the lizard's back to utter the compact of zero. Dreams
in that enveloped morning had the
two faces of Janus. Then there is no
such place as sleep
shadow, a rising of warm air through
time I stumble to the window to
shut out the wind and the sand that
accompany my waking. My eyes
cross to the glass and channels
of sleep drown. Light fix on the wall
and breath come without struggle on
the dry air. Mobilized threads of
weight jangle on horizon. The
moon-lit-up music heard on stalks
rests distance away bent in the air
endless waking sleep knot of water
tempest dawn