where the ferns grew thick
in the ash of the winter's fire,
...and I grew strong on the dark sea air
that came seeping through the valleys
and on the tang and the smoky rot of fall
...and I grew wise--if wisdom I have
watching Orion rise over the eucalyptus
and the terracota tiles and lamp-posts
...and we learned lightness on the hillsides
between the manzanita and pine needles
and to dance with the scree, in the dust
...I came to know you and the dark
in the crackling air, sharp and cold
in the deep blue of the night
and the mourning dove,
moaned gently in the yard
in the last grey before dawn.
...and I went from there, and came to grief
in the thick snow that drove me underground
and I haunted the days until spring
came screaming from under the drifts
summer heat tempered its wildness
into lushness, green on the fields
and I rode between the hills
in the sweet and heavy air
--the days fell brightly into night
I came to know death.
there was another place
--shadows in the undergrowth
and mold below the eaves,
the summer rose, thinning
into fall's jagged spiraling
and the winter was brittle
and in the shards of the year
I awoke, and came to myself
a corpse--
my soul, my brother--I left it
behind me
in trust to the dove and the canyon
they were far--who could hold me
back? I walked
beyond shadow
sun on the snow
cold and harsh
and bright
it was a long plain
sharp frozen grass
rushing closer
and shadow fled
but there was darkness in me
memory is shadow
once there was deep and sweet
sea and tang and smoke
all gone
but I followed
the shape of scent
...and I have come here
shuddering, huddling
in the lee of circumstance
I am something
a chilled and crusted thing
a hollowed thing
and I follow, still
a shape
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