Mephisto 10

by Michael McClure

MOUNTAINS OF MATTER

MADE OF STARS,

and
scent of crushed
GERANIUM LEAVES,
in “the everlasting universe of things”
roll through Shelley’s mind
and drop countless kalpas
to the snow leopard fur
behind
THE BABY’S EYES.
A hiss of anger turns to a growl
and a kiss,
like the seasons
and red – purple petals
banked against curbs.

     Gold – tipped cigarettes,
veiling dark lashes, hard winter pears —
these have never been
MORE CLEAR.

                       Psyche, nous, pneumas, whatever,
has not only come together
extending realms
and removing the old bounds
they
also unfold
outwards.