The Rising of the Waters

In a stanza of flickerings

The gold is my marrow

And it blossoms on my tongue

Like the weft of a rainbow

And colossals and collosals

The poultice of no self

And barricades that sing

And Plutarch in his songings

The Agape of the rootless

And bifurcated hexagrams

The doorway to infinite imaginings

And boorish tides

The gift of nautical thyme

And an ear within an ear