The Opium Den

(For You)

you are  the phosphorescence

my leaf

my wing

lunar moth

and are sweet in my mouth as Douglas fir tips

a scent i know well on you, citrus combined with fir

                                            I seek you always

                                            on the singed wings of angels

in the moist tongue

furled in dream

i lay down in the loam with Michael, with Gabriel

who are assigned to the cardinal directions

of your astral body

i hear you on the empty sea

immense tide. mouth of the river

i stand here on this coastal shore naked, holding the red stones beneath the tyrant sky

my unbraided hair

this temple of birds

hallucination

earth and sky day and night