The self
threshold to other selves without door
sky-ceiling root histories
winding up from soil toward the light
the source
when he came before
he walked upon the rocks
upon the stones of mountains
now he is lost in high grass
in deep soft layers of leaf
bone
and blossom
life-carpet of the low wood
then the birds rose to him
now the newts and bugs crawl before him
the heavens drain to him
the earth opens to him
it is an old living dark star he is come to
a simmer and swamp movement to the air
which was once desert
and a distant once ice
then fire
salt
and sea
he sees life down from the mountains
the peaks left barren
now tipping in slow cosmic dance
away then toward the sun
in season’s rhythm
and the axis of the shepherd’s staff
waving onward
gesturing into space
beyond the planet’s heaving surfaces
which however transformed
hold footprints
from one visit to the next.