Over There is the Opener of the Way

Between the hollow wall and the wolf-hair wind in the attic
Beyond the breathing door and thulium window
I met you without feet on the staircase
Gliding through hedgerows with morbidly beatific grace
And descending you said to me
Through me is the way to the pensive mausoleum
The subtle fluid of the palpitating life
In the low-lying yellow mist
Gathered about me in the obsolescence
Of remotely viewed vistas
Through me is the way to the blood-stained orchid
The slightly disembodied ambassadors
Enraged by amorphous beauty
With limping iguana smiles on the gallows
Of perpetual horizons
Through me is the way of overflowing green laughter
The black rainbow the seeping pink milk
The orgasmic flicker of eyelids
On the floating porch suspended in night-thin ether
Through me my lips are olibanum
Inside and far away
But sleeping behind me in my open shadow
I said yes you certainly are
You are the way the peripheral playground
The eye-mote of ubiquity in soft afternoons of leisure
The bride of abyssal layers
The fungible form at the ectoplasmic feast
In membranous salt shallows
And you opened your many arms to embrace the underworld
In the mansions of air
Enveloping elliptical shapes beyond
The gates opened and shut
I’d rather have oblivion than be left alone