I melt into the plural sky
its rippling tableaus of tomorrow
underneath open light waves
see-saws the labyrinth
like Delphi tendrils crossing channels
all the changing faces played
automatic, embedded in misty consort
with Hyde-Lees and Yeats
love-crushed oracles
ghostwriting the present poésie
Rimbaud’s Lettres du Voyant appear
of painful yesterday’s tempestuous guise
drawn into them I unfold like oragami
unmoving lips,...
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