frost and iron

In the slow dark
this frost basin
is written, a bright month
of home’s dream-matter
enhancing the white
freezing bed of mine

We’re allowed daybreak
and the monkey’s cry
but cloud remains
along us folds the mountain
and 10,000 river banks
a boat where we are small

Autumn constellations rise
on astringent gardens
that eternal life is bitter
while the country runs
with the moon of war
the desert situation
encampments of silk and iron


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