All of the clams were controlled by the rhythm
Of the sea. And all of the seas
Were rolled about by the moon.
Of these we’re all facsimiles.
Imagine a raft of seals that is kind
And a cove in Greenland streaming light,
And all of nature is stuffed into
Your veins, and everything is right,
And even the suavity of your spine
Is attuned to a book whose mint taste
Glistens on your tongue. It is
A scarlet sash around your waist,
It is a turban. It is a ship
That sails along a forest shore,
A mountain that rises above all hills,
And a fortress of the emperor.
Yaacov David Shulman