now I know this date in ancient history
fetish birds have come to roost all gathered here
phosphenes of a thousand stark and leafy
I now why Van Gogh painted crows it wasn't
but panoply of shadow gods all looking for the
within the Golden Field.
see old friends and lovers places words arrayed
white dazzling sheets where all threads meet
recount stories concentrated in a single gesture.
know destruction revolution painting prison
and flight to unknown object of the blood the
the maze the desert orgy feats of ecstasy in far-off
regions of the mind.
know I well in all twelve houses of the zodiac I
the twin horn string and fin I feel the arrow
mane and water bucket equilibrium.
know that every smile that every touch that every
vision every poem phrase and TV tragedy
part of myth and everything erased in
know I owe a debt to endless list of names
beauties thoughts and
one that crept or fell in
the center of my self.
know a living portrait haunts my actions every
I enter mausoleum gallery I run out laughing
thinking victim of the art disease or
still life prisoner escaped from
century English canvas.
recognize the mosaic pleas of other mythic people
in the café meadow forest drawer and street
moving cyclorama pieces parts to make the
motor run to rhythm earth epiphany.
thought my steps were lost in space
come again as leitmotif
standstill cycle orchestra
ending every note.
know that I know nothing
will I go on foot yet
on an ox and all the same
being in the show and watching too or
on the current concentrating
euphoria the funny scenes
creaky old machines
the curtain wheezing in the dust
color and the pathos.
then the gong the sun and hunger flush the
from a host of brightly colored peaches
my head I burn all books like sunken fleets
never made in to the
and trails are off again to telephone directory
California fog Tibet in backroom third
sanctuary no I am not crystal ball or mirror
still I know this day as date in future history.