there is an arcane hell
along a crooked mile.
let the right one in
is carved into the arch
the gods have bade me guard.
i wait in white
beneath it
with my scimitar
and smile.


Blade between
gritted teeth;
birds soaring up
from a thousand peaks.

The best lesson of all
from anybody

was how
to move about
the aether
soundlessly.

This book of days began nearly one year’s time ago now. Here is a photo of my favorite installation of Project Himank that I have found to be true.

In the middle of the usual plane — found a thing that was set free — waiting by a hitching post so patiently — come back, back, back to me — and lead it down to the killing field — and think, in spite of desire, Please, surprise me — its shadow-eyed willingness — and no strength to bring the blade down — Just get out of here, be free — and still, unhitched, unbound — my mount decides to follow me

in another vision nightly come,
a million ways to vow.
blade to forehead
eyes in eyes
a copper ring
one finger laid upon a mouth.


i contain within me caged
a fraction of the universe

the sacrament of a friend / the real litany against fear