Myth of the Blaze

night – sky         bird’s         world to know         to know         in my life to know what I have said to myself the dark to escape in brilliant highways of the night sky, finally why had they not killed me why did they fire that warning wounding cannon only the one round I hold a superstition because of this    lost to be lost    Wyatt’s lyric and Rezi’s running thru my mind in the destroyed (and guilty) Theatre of the War    I’d cried and remembered boyhood    degradation         other degradations and this crime I will not recover from that landscape it will be in my mind it will fill my mind and this is horrible death bed         pavement         the secret taste of being lost dead clown in the birds’ world what names (but my name) and my love’s name to speak into the eyes of the Tyger         blaze of changes . . . ‘named the animals’         name and name the vigorous dusty strong animals gather under the joists   the boards   older than they   giving them darkness the gifted dark tho names   the names   the ‘little’ adventurous words   a mountain   the cliff a wave are taxonomy I believe in the world because it is impossible         the shack on the coast under the eaves the rain barrel flooding in the weather and no lights across rough water illumined as tho the narrow end of the funnel what are the names of the Tyger   to speak to the eyes of the Tiger   blaze of the tiger   who moves in the forest leaving no scent but the pine needles’ his eyes blink quick in         the shack in the knife-cut and the opaque white bread each side of the knife