Where I walk I see doors

and it's not clear

and it's not simple.

Where I walk I see women

and the women twist themselves 

                                along branches.

A wall to the left, a wall to the right

and moss everywhere, to make it even darker.

Will I see the fountain where the water becomes ebony

becomes boat, becomes oar

                          and hurls itself?

Will I see the fountain which becomes feather

becomes eagle

              becomes space?

Will I see mounted men

gallop toward the mountain-top

from where water gushes

                        into the water which permits sight

where I see an island

                  where I walk

                  where all the men and all the women


                           row towards the stars?

For the next poem in this sequence, click here.