xi
‘Unemotioned by the thought of death’
Rise out from sleep
in the deep of night—
Matrices of mind
remote as nebulae—
The moment’s life,
the open edge—
the flow of night
within the grove.
On familiars once
opaque and strange;
under thresholds,
becoming known.
Star, distance-cooled,
in an ash-grove’s dark—
assumption is ungrasped—
unknowingness of sleep—
Day-strange, unemotioned
by the thought of death.