Radius

Radius


I have rolled into a ball on the
Surface of stone. Snow has fallen
Everywhere but the place I have taken for
Myself, and as I reach to feel the perfect
Radius I cut my hand on a sharp stone angle
That has risen from the blankness.
My blood evaporates before my eyes.
I can feel the redness, the wound closes
Around a moon shaped stone
Fitted to my hand. All of this has
Happened to someone else,
At another time, on other stones.


When I have healed, I move myself
Along the descending pathway, evergreens
Curling laurels. Through the trees something
Glimmers, distant, wavering in my
Sleep blurred sight. I stand against the
Rough bark of a windfall, breathing
The cold thin air. It is a light, somewhere,
And it offers me no way to find
My place.


Because you can never tell how far away
A light is.


All time has left me. The snow still falls,
But does not touch me, as if I am a burning
Stone. I am moved now, not moving 
Myself, and I come near the base of
The stone mountain, covered in a field
Of deep white. Enormous hairy things
Root and grunt through the surface of the
Field, blowing huge plumes of smoke from
Their noses, echoing from deep in their
Bellies a trilling sub-sound, astounded by
Their own enormity, unaware of me entirely.

I start to understand that I am not here, that
I am part of the world, only. Another wind
Comes and I go away, blinded by the circles
Swirling around me, and as I fall again I see the
Same flicker of light, this time within the range
Of my senses, this time walked about by men
Who wear streaks of green paint on their bare
Skin, enduring the cold by some miracle, howling
In words I do not understand. They carry feathers
Of vultures, circular stones, a kind of gourd with
A string that they saw with peculiar dexterity. I carry
The sound in my mind, and again I am blown, carried
Moved in some way to another bare stone. I can see the
Same light, quavering, silent, distant. I have no hands, and as
I look to myself I cannot find anything. I feel even more now.
I can see to the light by feeling. Can see the men as they continue
Their dance, and women have come out from the darkness. Their hair
Falls all around them, carrying the light inside them outward. They are beautiful
In the darkness. They carry a long staff with more feathers, ringing bells of glass,
Lights that circle the bundle by some variable orbit. Their song is one I have
Sung in life, one that was carried to me through water. I watch them for
A time, as the snow falls in wonderful silent waves, and finally the wind
Dies.