Pan playing pipes playing worlds playing Pan
in the wilderness garden
heard a knock
shock on a rock
as spiral time had split
to a thrush peck - Look
through all the Ocean Stream of his mosaic
in wickerwork of wind and wave and nerve
take flight as light
as angel seed will flick
from abacus of sun on stitching sand.
The brightest beads of morning memories click
and we are here
here, here.
A call, an echo, a recognition.
YOU ARE READING
Tapestries
PoetryPoems from 1978 onwards. These poems are in a different style from the later MajorSeventh, the earlier ones often with more of an Eastern-influenced cadence. Later, they vary a lot in form and style.
