night puts her hand to the ground
in a slap, calls hounds of deep dreaming
away from their nightmares

a bright fence walls them away
from the neighbouring property
- day’s horses are rearing in harness,
off to the east.

deaf and blinded,
the kneeling man’s head
touches the ground
but the ground
- deaf and blind -
is not abased.

please, set tinder
to the phoenix;
burn the forest down
for the little seeds waiting.

please, I am longing for birth
in the stretched afternoon shadow
of what I’ve done. burn me
in the fire of sundown,
and I’ll go down willing
to midnight’s blind womb.

do not say
speak to me, speak to me

say
let me breathe as a syllable
in the word of your creation.