To a Libra , in response

(this is a song , music pending)

...

dance, do I with you some day?

'yours in dance' you wrote involved

in visions faraway.

we, we, merry trekkers in the mountains of the mind,

pause by breath

to take a sip from haven's undiluted stream-
this by heave the arch and the dream

that stillness trickled by one bouldered night on way to sea -

this the pause of god that offered blind the spittle of sight and green deliverance -
a sigh and twist so limp convened by all the sleuth of words and images replayed,
O, they-
to cast no dice but live by chance and spill the blood in moments- still?

to dance?
limerence, diagnosed, how could i rise and walk with shouldered pallet

thru a distance eye'd by numens thin -

smaller naps of rest

between the lore of syn and transformation -
when forces under current beckon

wheat to foam and all that glitter -
"should i dare to eat that peach"? ( no , never. )
Rapids red and backstream Butte

carried flagrant love by Rockies

(though the rig was oilskinned and fit)*
I saw cascading from the lighted surface clear- a sign, a perfect play of air ...
And still, somehow, the beads, the brow,

those visions hanging from the ceiling there (!)
strung cure of carmine to return to later -but the now's enough
to cut the waiting anchor fast, end, steer of ghosts and dogge'd

last the ped of stealthy water to the river's gaining edge, to gasp-
-the moment's breath returns to send you back like Tolkien, back again
But twirl as we ethereal atoms in the ever fluid sip-
a fiery grip outlasted,

still a breadth below the mastery,

traced enamor to the tryst -

there is no end, no end to this

(we we merry trekkers in the mountains of the mind

pause by breath

to take a sip

from haven's undiluted stream)...

wutai shan