From Songs of Zodiac
Keeper of back-bending upon itself
we hear the song and twanging logos
and plot forever the Newtonian path.
Still, fall lingers like a maturing elf
who counts the seasons in dozens of gross
and whose bow sings its owners wrath.
For every archer is a bard that kills
high-strung, stable only in oscillation
or in mid-flight like Zeno's arrow.
The Virgin's perfect rhythm and the thrills
that pierce more than air, that quick cessation
of the heart that chills to the marrow.