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And yet again,

I am seated here, a palace for bodies upon pine needles.

The blind seer, crowned, sitting down in chains.

Mysterious visitor, whomever he might be.

Dragon’s teeth that watch me

bird-watching, god-possessed, naked in a woodland’s pool

and pull

Beast, your eyes brimming with a rubric of desire,

The very god of thunder holds his house in his hands

and sets it on fire.

Cannot the gods walk through the walls, orderly and beauteous,

dazzling like sweet streams of honey denied?

Their heads are in a flower

while bare feet kick and splash,

scratching the soil with sharp fingertips.

feeding the wolf-cubs stretched out to sleep.

“I do not yet know the length of your back.”