the dance of the mystic math

sky flowers of event
my lie like a flower

the round and circling spiral pathways of the dance of the mystic math:

star-footed, swine-eyed, ten-tined we go; silver our talons,

rainbowed the flash of our scales.  you gyre above my little wren’s gyre,

above the muscled serpent gyre of my slumbering mother.


but listen, oh listen, o rim of my wooden wheel, spoke of my hub:

conjure a while in the silent and listening east with your nut of a knot.

i swing you about like a star like a sun in the breadth of my sky

at the circling edge of my self!  i deceive myself! i lie dying, i die lying!


i bear my lie like a flower.  my lie i bear like a fruit and my death

like a seed. it is the tree-egg, the serpent-seed of self.  into my heavy,

hidden heart go the deep nerves of feeling, feeding like tree roots. i find

my virtuous light, my truth, my lifeful of deaths, in the soil in darkness there.


in the knot of my serpent-muscle heart i feel. in my forest brain i know.

i count the selves of my universes in faces as many-eyed and -tongued

as mine.  i am them.  they are me.  my fearful flinch is theirs,

their yearning fingertips of near perception mine.

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