swaying
on the rock ledge
casting the die

spotting
the falcon
grazing on blue

how it soars
in such slow motion
extracted bits of time

at my feet
spider floss trails
lead to the white beach

the shore murmurs
to a boat far out
its sails are motionless

and the clouds beyond
are just that —
the clouds beyond

ice bound
silence is
a myth

I know
because I lay
one ear flush
to the surface

the effect
was like suction

and I heard
something
that flowed

and it flowed

the man
in the long wrinkled coat
comes out only
at night

his eyes
are two great pearls
on the edge
of rain
the red spiders

with long legs
do not fear him
though they do shelter
in the dame shade

the man leans
against the lamp post
and gives rise
to rings of smoke

and the smoke lifts
dispersing
ever so slowly
into the moonlight