Numeral calculations done in blood
were wildly calligraphized on white wood.

Adjusting my thoughts, you are luminous,
throwing a planetary light on the room.

And up these pulsing joyous stairs
they would climb into bed

In a moment
we will all fall into the lair
called the past.

I know that mirrors can start fires—
and why shouldn’t they

No ground, no figure. An immense canvas,
which I will never finish.

For all their bark, the straw dogs bite as well:
taste    touch    sight    sound    smell

The years, the miles out and back are run through us
      as we sit here.

That future life, slept in the anemic sunlight
While the old poison slowly filled my whole
      bloodstream.

In the palace, at the table set for the feast, they were
      awaited