Native stone

For Roger Afunier

Light is laying waste the heavens Droves of dominions in stampede The eye retreats surrounded by mirrors Landscapes enormous as insomnia Stony ground of bone Limitless autumn Thirst lifts its invisible fountains One last peppertree preaches in the desert Close your eyes and hear the light singing: Noon nests in your inner ear Close your eyes and open them: There is nobody not even yourself Whatever is not stone is light