In His Presence

Puffed ragged lids rim my eyes
yellow horned lamas incant
squirm of children thrush with white scarf
            saxophone accompany
            silk and brocade
            eyelash and a bow
            prostrate half
            press palms     — pause —

His Holiness speaks to us
            Glass rims glinting
            Deep rich reverberations
                             Above red EXIT

Why. How. That silent spinning wool of
            fading consciousness
            insinuates like cicadas
                                    charms my eyes slip shut.