Some thing undone

A low feeling — neglect —
some thing undone,
a bead missing.

In my bag are beads
I picked up in the street,
yin and yang, pearl and jet,
not around my neck.

(I'm washing this lace to death.)

I missed
some word, some prayer ...
a thought, a stitch.

A shabby seam.
A hem worn through.

A low feeling,
some thing undone.

A gleam unstitched.
An eye unlit.

Poem

Words, words, what is a poem?

Ideoglyphs imbibed by the hyaline mind.
A story of ghosts sifted from dream.
A shining song in a hollow bone.

Is it message or is it a maze?
Is it a moment inked in stone?
Is it forever
     or shredded to stuff a crocodile?

The bird calls the unseen sun.
The stars shed their timeless dust.
The wind wheels our weal and woe.

What sets my hair on end?
The stirring of the storm.

What smooths it out again?
The honey in the coomb.