Phyllorhodomancy

1


I was born of a wolf

In the crimson forest,

Deciduous terrors

Dropping from the trees.


I walk through the door

Of smoke, and on the inside

Of my skin hieroglyphs

Shine phantasmal.


2

Abstract world,brilliant and abstruse,

Ordain me in my proper use;

To serve you whole and in tiny parts,

Instrument of occult arts.


3

Eoliths unearth you in time,

Arrowheads of old emotions,

And these invented selves,

Answering cryptic demands.


4

By means of thirty-two secret paths of wisdom,

Ten numbers and twenty-two letters,

Yahweh created the universe,his book,

Which the initiated may read,

And thereby learn how to create life themselves.


Fantastical privacy of reading,

My lights of learning and joy,

Foraging for God’s love in knowledge...

Premonitions of myself, these books

My heart chooses, for its capital...


5


April’s rain-dog stray in the shining streets,

Inside and outside, it’s all the same to me,

All tossed on the season’s pyre.

Tree-surge, earth-tide, sunlight storms

The heights; blooded by rainbow cascade,

I fall to the rat’s teeth of night.


6


Domes of mosques and madrassas,

Catching and amplifying whispers,

Focussing energy in the core,

As designs so intricate and geometric

Turn endlessly in upon themselves,

Inwardly involve us too,

And harmony endures.