There's a million rooms in the palace
where a rainbow is held captive.
Violette room,
where a cyclone draws energies into
spiral around a thread of violette light.
Pink, where the walls reflect the fucian glow
of a rose burning in acid.
Yellow, where spinning yellow disk collide,
shatter and regroup in air,
collide, shatter and regroup till light bouyant dust
floats away in air.

Dawn herself has led me through these chambers,
to her bedroom, where,
upon a million tiled floor,
escaping light plays, interwinding,
writes spectral poetries.
Or, dawn me given by covenant, my love,
with rainbow fashioned sword
cuts in prismatic logic
night the too long,
the too profound.


15 Feb. 1983, Pisa, Italy              next->