' Un coup de dés n'abolira jamais le hasard'
O my buddies, buds of light
indefinite beyond the rising horizon--
how close are we to our outline's dissolution
in the final shore's tender collapse?
Will we stumble through full recognition
in the threshold time before
the void's absolute, unhinged embrace?
A coward's futile rehearsals
improvise a partner in the mirror
yet all action draws its arc & blade
over the shoulder, in shadowplay screens
I had dreams like muted echoes
that refuse to fade in the unmeasured west--
how far along this track might
they guard, nay, prod my passage?
What is left? What is done?
What is right? What is gone?
Wine of the Day, No. 261
Fa 1 dia