for Gene Stewart
Scrying ebontips
glitter across elaborate tracing
in the matrices of meaning
while a muscle's grip contracts
anenomes beckon in dark
currents on the ceiling
It will be remembered
by a facet of an eye
and no android, even you
can be programmed for that
memory passed on
Like a platter of glass
in which a crowd is warped
and never shattered
Until one day, when
the whorls of your digits
pass over the legends themselves
with such softness
they don't quite touch
that you suffer the weight
of a dream's crush
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