Classic Poem

After a wet season
the leaves fall early
and bells among the damsel trees
invent the dusk.

We had been discussing
God and Fate and the eternal reflux:
after the white ecstasy of intellect
the axe, the sceptre, the tent people with bright trappings.

Your voice was the voice of the yellow sunflowers
pouring fire into the dusk;
but above your voice the bells were rocking
my heart beating
with the same reiteration.

flux and reflux.

Carried on this singing sea
(my blood)
the curv'd bones of my breast
drift into darkness.