a leaf has come to the doorso bend the ear to whence wereinvented ourselves throughcurlicues of air,lyrated phoneme,drifting into theventuresome moth’sspell-drift-scintilla
to the banyan hump in the vale of reedshard by the velum’s body-store of silkwhere the quill is deep-writ in the bark’stenuous amber, where the salt ache ofdevious print, curatorial lorecarbon-calibrated parleyshave not glossed in our true worthblown the dust-trail deeppast the paddy bowl
read the leaf coming in at the doorwhich has made this long and perilous passagepreserving within lessons of riptidessojourns of persevering painso we may learn to go backonce in a while to where we were.whence we came.