Star Miner

Star Miner

I
A moment's light then darkness took my hand,
spine to ear's excess, or what monsters find,
until the world and rumor pick up my thread;
mark differently the present face, the former man,

the chance perfected line.

I touch the miner's morning mirror beard:
lines on his face where the stones came down,
black dotted dice his bobbing eyes, say lips,
snake cradled moons turned end to end,

a temple thrown down and daily built.

Every house was good until a better come,
my tools were rough, spoon chisels to star heat,
spouses bent or lost, false alarms to lost men:
breaths held to something scratch from second sleep.

Who finds no cunning work, cannot bless.

II
My shirts blowing washdays loose on the line,
a body bound in a sheet, feet clean in a bed,
I close the smiles of the mask to my teeth,
nearer a man's likeness, pinned to the head,

make belief without displacing belief;

since the world has not so many mercies,
or one night's love not so much a marriage,
till one must be left along a road
where both could not go, or two abed;

who cannot sleep alone, must begin again.

Flicker-light screens fuse past eyes out of time,
six-gun words to ray speed, ear to star spine
times second thoughts to second sleep,
still a second likeness to my wish.

I stumble hard and strike in dark.