Shines through ice.
Outward climb.
Stories teaching rhythms.
Rhythms of the climbing, this is stored ice.
Excitableness plunges as if from mid air
amid misty ramparts the storied house.
Serenity freed up from encrusted stones
and come out with arrows of sublime things.
Arrows to go.
Arrows of design.
Arrows wet and leaving the elements to dry
out at day.
The deepest of these is of wet and dry light.
The feelings are released as from an abyss.
Night unfold what the front and the back of me says.
That with staminate, pistils
released after the flood recedes.
Knowing things I have loosed have a
place of scenery.