Tomorrow’s

Mix am I 
of fertile clays
dreaming in color,
one molding into the 
likeness of the other in
that that dance is like sex

for initiates in the Mysteries

shown by slapping stones 
and closing both eyelids
them dangling, fading
into a South Roman
mosaic, circa July
14 nineteen 88

wax
 in’a
 poem
txt
 in’
 tabula.