Punctuating the coats of maya,
peppering shots of earthly soul
from the regimented folks collected
in the bare valley below. Night arcs,
its force gathers in a shining tip...
dark splashes in the valley and makes
all crannies again as its winding vessels.
The little wand’ring brigadiers brandish
their guns, and loose them; loose them at
the flooding not, cresting high about them.
-2002
