Glimpses from the Hourglass

The Other Side...

...of paradise


Purgatory - a bare room
without windows, without eyes,
where memory is inaccessible,
prohibited, so I cannot recall
events in dreams of yesternight.
The single door is locked, the key
withheld, but on the other side
one senses memories of inner
selves, of paradisal times -
the breath of orchards
stealing through the keyhole
to the hungry mind,
images of freedom
and its essence,
given life…




You know so much


You know so much more
than I ever shall
about the ways of ice,
the freezing-point of water -
seas and rivers -
in a cold country.

You also know far more than me
about the many forms of life:
you could teach me
all I wished to learn.

You are the custodian
of tales passed on
like talismans
by nomads of the galaxy
who passed through,
or made brief sojourns.

They told of cosmic fauna
glimpsed on distant,
scintillating moons:
phosphorescent creatures
from the deepest,
most protective caves;
cybernetic animals -
celestial x-rays -
fugitive, translucent,
star-engendered
telepathic beings;
colonies of land-locked fish
surviving without seas;
troglodyte marsupials
with sheerest
pterodactyl wings…

Knowing about ice
in all its stages,
life in all its ages,
love in all its past,
present, and future
modes and incarnations,
you alone could teach
me how to liberate
the source of light,
the gifts of empathy
and vision, seventh sense
and second sight;
or, bypassing
arcane wisdom,
help me soar,
and watch me burn
in a trajectory
inspired by mind
as it discovers flight.