It will be revealed to the deer how the planes of existence are layered

                           world unfurling as a rose

                                           body combing the folds for a gravity feeling

                           so many suns hanging onto their limbs

                                                 Bring their light to the hapless angels on the brink

                                  out of the garden & into the galaxy

           one long summer where all is word & light

                                neither ground to walk nor sky to wander

           Between the folds will be an island of darkness where the lanterned angels will hover on the brink

                           hold your ear to the rose hear their hooves scuffling stardust

                                           out of the forest & into the dark pool

                            how many solar ghosts hanging onto their coats

                                                If there are thorns these are antlers left behind

                               fugue of deer scaling futures damp with angel breath

              neither antler nor hoof will tear the petals 

                               they will drink from the black hole lake & grow new eyes with which to dream.