Palingenesis

on the platform

he stands to be

reckoned with,

a wing rises

in the background

that soaring

may prefigure

his motion to

come, a plunge,

aplomb in the

words and fabrics

mostly sounds

like the gurgles

he knows he will

make, fury

to fit the firm-

ament, amen

to that—or

rather no word

so sanct to fie,

fie, my lord

to fire a pose

in turmoil may

beget ruin

to him, his oath

is maculate

as a plinth,

symmetrical

and spotty and

so sprawling

that to raise up

again is a

drenching

task no one

beholding stone

may call holy.