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The poet holds the fuse between two inkstained fingers, a mild-mannered creator tumbling words through themselves and funnels of rhythm, against a background radiation of manytunneling images, watching himself watching himself, listening to his mother and his father talking-- he emerges from a sea of letterheads a collage of memories, feelings flaming into familiarity, that highway of words lifting slightly higher to the impassive moon, stone of grace and wind of sun, crossing the bridge of ununderstandable facts to their musical embodiment: grass ashimmer in the afternoon, the mountain silently hammered to its molten punchclock, algae aglow under blue clouds, eagles landing to silver dust, something stirring in the forgotten doorways of childhood (a garden in a playground, a playground in a garden, half-polyethylene, half-earth, strung secretly through your corpus callosum), something golden in the half-heard heartbeat of a child, something profound in the dumb black eyes of a sparrow, something oceanic lurking beneath and behind every color of the day-- a wind blowing over the highway, a laugh in the corner of a dream, vines of dreamt eternity caught within the windshield of cognition, the soul an outflowing river of being collecting objects as it goes (let me check my pockets). Miracle of undertaking, the poet's mind a bricolanguage, a triangulation of thought, meaning, and music; of color, sound, and dream; of history, nature, and emotion. Speech and thought are interlinked by the echoes of meaning in words, the words which touch on the worlds that swirl through you as you walk, consuming the world in all its variegated spectrum, you, an animal of vegetable-minerals . This is the dream we occupy, and the one a poet sees, or makes, so that we may see, or take, the Earth for what it is: a spinning garden of sewage and jewels, a cave of hooded thoughts swept inside a rock-quarry, a blue-white bauble against the black pooling gorge of galaxies, an inkspot on a god's hand, a cooled flame, soemthing he approaches now, his mind a glowing vision of music and meanings, to return us to being, to enjoy the present of being.