the cracking of the hatching egg
the druid spirit emerging from the ego egg

out of the cracking time-light woven egg i push my being.

i muscle away my old star-scarred sky. i blossom like petals.

i crack apart the sepals of my world. i tumble into flame,

a-flame within the incubating flame.


like a bitter tear i am spilled from the flame-petalled eye.

tear drops of flame spill upwards, tears of water down.

i hear, with one half of my tear-built body, earth and,

with the other half, the flame and water air. i spread out


wings! though i’ve found no sky beyond the one i knew when i was

small. these new distances that i have found

woven of atom’s souls are my own soul’s horizons.

i fill my distances. i weave a well-known sky of new horizons.


by a sentient but not yet autonomous act of  being  i make

my beast. i am a skyful of many kinds of birds

and many small and armoured beasts; a blue and singing flame

cradling another sky-sown seed of self, an ego-egg, a world.


i look down where my columnar rising climbs the sky

built of beings, each myself, me here, me there, me then, me now,

a solid rising, locus and logos, atom and aevum, a core –

a form i make back and forth through the bucking bolts of time.


i am a white woman. my wings are white. my skies of night

and day shine for me. o naive sibling beings of the earths,

we are bred in the skies’ nests! we open our eggs and see

sky. we are licked scarlet and gold by the mothering flames.

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