Ore
~ A late April poem
ORE
-
You may exist again as soothsayer
well you may
flag the pyre, and you may prophesize
But dreams may bite back
as oblique clouds
And you may look upon the flame
when the dung hits
like fetid opera, you
You may scribe as sybils howl
and everything is born again
And everything is born again
from all the high places
a falling-for
this brine of apprehension
Symmetry …

