ah
now don't i feel just like
those bare trees bending
in the windy winter
rains
what a tangle i have gathered!
like the half-moon after midnight
i've gone beyond the horizon
toward a darkness that subsumes all senses;
unpierceable perfect dark
but in darknesses are mysteries
that i go wandering for
that i go seeking nets
to ravel in, in hopes
that from this tower
when i cry toward the stars
the sound
will stir that Woman at her loom
and she will weave for me a blanket,
with the patience of the earth,
the color of my questioning
the stitching of which
i'll read in dream
and wake in light
not fit for eyes
that haven't known
the awe of action
acted in unknowing.