It will be revealed to the deer how the planes of existence are layered
world unfurling as a rose
body combing the folds for a gravity feeling
so many suns hanging onto their limbs
Bring their light to the hapless angels on the brinkout of the garden & into the galaxy
one long summer where all is word & light
neither ground to walk nor sky to wander
Between the folds will be an island of darkness where the lanterned angels will hover on the brinkhold your ear to the rose hear their hooves scuffling stardust
out of the forest & into the dark pool
how many solar ghosts hanging onto their coats
If there are thorns these are antlers left behindfugue of deer scaling futures damp with angel breath
neither antler nor hoof will tear the petals
they will drink from the black hole lake & grow new eyes with which to dream.
