September. One late crimson backyard
rose remains. Knot
not exactly Ruby, not
Desire – but Steadfast Fire (framed
by maroon foundation of the house).
Afloat upon your thorns,
a crozier, or serpent’s
copperhead – magenta compass,
planetary pole. Away beyond
all foregone Oregon
disputes – those Diomedan
straits of Fenris-Greyhound –
the International Date
Line – must I hesitate?
Princess in a shower, singing.
We clambered to the clear high room
where SF in a bay flamed
orange bloom – became
entangled like a quipu sum (loom,
cedars). Weight of one iron anchor
filled that octagon
with spray of azure ocean
when Evening Star fired his tangential
thread of light into shade-womb
of piers – that San Franciscan
adamant, where limestone
Rhodi petal-fan (leaf-shaken hum).