CLOUD-PORTRAIT

his hand a bird, gull drifting down,

emissary of unseen islands, gesture before the dark

unknown.

space and time the cleansing; shadow to flower, then burn: here on land sea-gusherings, ruttings to ease the mind. the body already in lethargy of the sensual, a season near-unending,

a sea-son beginning we, aloof, yet caught in devotion's mazes devious with lurid

hazes

before the cynical wave, the cold wind

the voyages to void us,

the vultures to flame with flesh:

hell-hawks

now sated on

their blood-trophies torn from

your cloud-grotto of devotion.

Forrest Anderson

٤٤

13