The fear began at the borders of fire
and not in the darkness
In the late haze of sun trees
moved against their circles
and into the whisperings
from the middle air
Not everything works
The river remains the light shifts
We are standing in the yard of a used-up school
in an August afternoon
heavy with the hidden sound of
flies trapped between the wire and the window
following us
when we move
The things we touch
bear us up and change with us
There may be no message
but nothing survives us
without a name
given away altered and given back
part of the long history of strangers
become
figures framed upon the pattern of your sleep
the plague of your dreams
and a thread of safety
between both
The turn of the deck leads to an edge
where the high air shakes
On the water the circles widen
Reversed
they gather one
into another toward the center
Either way the surface
restores itself
When the cards reply you say they are
returning
to us
The hanged man inverted shows him on his feet
Remember how the edge of the sky
when it touched your hand
drew that thin scar
Under the moon and the dew falling
a marked path loses itself in the horizon
A crayfish emblematic of Cancer
ruled over by the Moon crawls through thick water
towards land suggesting
twilight deception and error
The figures of coming and going
appear in 78 changes
By one account the cards contain
all knowledge of the universe collected
by ancient Egyptians
who agreed to transmit this knowledge
covering tablets with symbols
thus concealing
the doctrine
The buzzing of what is kept from us
becomes part of the stillness of the afternoon
The parched walls bear it out
and the wind picks it up for itself
cracked stones
blistered paint and a hoop over the door
rusted grass in the yard
growing back
into a place to end as good
as any
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