CANTO 89 If the wisps of uncertain light

 

If the wisps of uncertain light darken

what then shall be my song?

Many stars have seen this weeping

and the great oaks fallen in many lands.

The moon doesn’t get any deeper.

I find myself and it is not the me I bargained for.

 

The path of least resistance winds steep and hard.

I’ve already dropped off the cliff

by the time I look over the edge.

I grab the nearest shrub.

Tread the misty air.

Hear the roots pop, intricate the rhythms

I could make an endless loop for the band to jam on

 

but I land in another frame

of mind where I glide on hot peppers and turn

the pages left to my own devices I

stare at the basil, the vinegar, the oil, the tomatoes.

I wash the lettuce in waves of fatigue.

I leap. I land. I’ll take anything. Bits

of mica and cartilage. Sand in

suspension. The tide running leaping

frog a slate or jinn whisper a canape a loaded whip

a succubus a fruit

a flock of lighter-than-air imps a mid-Atlantic ridge

 

all I think dissolves like ink

into an ocean

        suspended

 

    by what I can’t leave behind

I’m on the lip the cup

 

                tilted

and the saucer

            the ceremony

 

brilliant     unknown

 

    until thumb and forefinger

 

wrist and forearm

pull me forward             I drink