imago

the small image of the world
embossed in leather
resides rightly behind glass
hiding its secret geometry,
coursing latitudes and longitudes,
majestic oceans, its deep sea basins
full of salty tears and glowing after-life;

great ranges of mountains
enshrouded by cloud banks and cold still air
middens for a slumbering geology
lush valleys bisected by pulsing rivers
bounded always by deserts and tundra,
by horizons of blue and white,
by desolation, by oblivion

an invisible hand controls her,
pinioned between two fat fingers,
rotating inexorably,
suspended above his terrible visage,
gaping maw of the Creator,
perhaps he will swallow her like a grape

sketchbook no.314

interior landscapes

blue and violet cypresses
expressed in chalk
those rolling hills
embossed on soft cream paper

wind and sun a faded wash
black rolling india river-ink
an horizon line of muddled lead
behind a stand of yew

white golden grass forced of
fen and rush in sap-green hues
a still-water pond raw umber banks
mercurial in dampened brush;

a view toward as well as from
each recess filled with harmony
only her humid breath bears softened
the dissent of form and spirit