inspired by the ten Sephirot
A quickening heliolatry darkened,
an oneiric chaos—fata morgana
—pure. A bent halo pings morning,
an epicedium of a dead seed—
the psalm of a dying star.
Red serpents cross glass tongues, the riddle
of the one-winged swan. All the days know
when to sleep.
The ten moons of Etz haChayim
—night’s purpling sphere,
—on time’s nude hand, wrinkled
in pulse, the map
of an opulent world, once.
A hermit dismantles Saturnian charms
by an empty river, breaks bread
with a lemon-colored turtle, belly-up—
paper for the bloodless beast.
Tiny daemons sail on white clay.
A thousand suns unbutton
A wishbone in seawater
deaf as teeth.
Hour: The long man who fades into stone
often seen holding an ennead of damp iris.
Time: A woman holding a black umbrella,
often seen kneeling in ivy.
Eternity: A blue nest of gold leaves,
aflame in the light of the once-was.
Tadpoles hatch in a bottom-fire, a telestic
lamp—Cerulean: A holy color, wet—
the seventh lotus sinks.
A cathedral of splintered mushrooms—
A pear rots on steps stained with obedience.
Thumb on bark—the Gatherer,
the elephant & the blind man
unfold into hundred-handed
God: A large metal cube on sand,
rinsed in milk—a place of finding.
god: The river that flows four ways.
Jay Sheets studies Mythopoetics at Goddard College in Vermont and is a Poetry Editor for the literary journal, Duende. His work has appeared in Hermeneutic Chaos, Aleola, Sundog Lit, Albion Review, and The Light Ekphrastic. Sheets lives in Plymouth, Mass. www.jaysheets.com