Excerpt
Dream Landscape with the Old Brickyard Road Creek and Blind Willie Johnson
Not the seed pearl, but the juniper
Skewed by wind, baffled,
A vacant zigzag in the elaborate dusk,
A sable altar there on the headland,
That tonight grants calm.
Having lost its oar in the surf,
The wind rehearses a circle
Through the copse of partridge berry and spruce.
The heavens never thought to map
This world afloat in formaldehyde.
Called back. Called back.
The starlight reeks of tallow,
The tallow of flesh.