if in the swift darkness

I should trip

let every stinging eye

ignite

a melancholy braying           a tight-eyed horn sound loud and brown-handled spoken from that first, glowing  --

as in a semi-circle

of hard watchers           --        proceeding within

a semi-acrobatic silence containing all the numerals and ornaments fixed and with-in reach of the sun, moon and white,

wobbling stars ---

minister to me like heaven

for         I am alive here

within reach of that sun

and the sirens

the ashes and the rectangular neon  --I am alive --

each moment is an hour

within an hour –

each small attention a liquid gasping tiger

and my whole face and body are

radiating

my entire dream soundtrack surging red

and black ---

alive before and after  --   

for wild saints and

wild

impulsive joy stabbing heroes

                 intone the dark moans

Max Wolf Valerio

First draft - - March 18, 2004