VI
The gullible soft memory of the clock
like the sweetness of the Kore’s puberty
and the blue breeze’s soft caressing
recreate dreams of times bygone
with their crossroads immersed in light
when suddenly the calmness of the dream
turns into the apocalyptic enormity
of a wave engulfing singing stars
or the nebula’s untouched vulva.
Before the gullible clock dances
on the contour of a flower petal
the monk crafts an ache and
the slender palm trees sway
until the anger of the elements
emerges catapulting fireballs
of scorch out of the fiery pit.
Anger of the elements unravels its
destruction, hurling the burning curse
from the depths of the earth
to the top of the sky,
to the crocuses, snow breath or
the osprey’s clasping talons
and to this hymn’s consonance.

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