The Tiger's Tail

I

How with this brokenness is the dream sustained?
How does this story go?
These memories that with I alone remain,
Tired out, sleepless, old.

Sheer plodding along through plowed down verse,
Soiled, abused and overtold,
Meat falls from my bones with a curse
Only seeming, never shown.


II

I found my way into the Tiger’s den
As he was dreaming of the Rose,
Clasped my fingers around his tail,
A symmetry in repose.

And what could I do but transcribe old themes?
God’s starbright skull still full of seeds,
The flesh, the bone, the Tiger’s Dreams,
The cut, the cry, and the wound that bleeds.

And the Fool that stole the bone,
And the shell that cracked the sea,
In this abysmal dark I am not alone
The dreaming god is here with me.


III


The tail twitches in my hand,
The rough beast come round at last
To face me where I stand
Tied securely to this mast.

I’ll not let go again
As I have done so many times before.
I’ve honed my mind with discipline
To endure the Tiger’s roar.