At the edge

Of a world

Beyond my eyes

Beautiful

I know Exile

Is always

Green with hope—

The river

We cannot cross

Flows forever

Like a cliff

My brow hangs over

The cave of my eyes

My nose is the prow of a ship

I plunder the world

They have traced me to my uncles

One died a beggar in a room with no windows

And one danced until he was undone, like Don Juan

Though they try to find me out, I am still as the swan

While those who search grow grim

And darker in their doubt

This stick springs

When you lean on it

It is still green

You can feel the sap

This stick gives

A spring to your walk

Old sticks snap

This stick bends like a bow

You are the arrow

You whose name I know

As well as my own

You whose name I know

But not to tell

You whose name I know

Yet do not say

Even to myself—

You whose name I know

Know that I came

Here to name you

Whose name I know

gives wood its grain

Dreams knot the wood

Water opens without end

At the bow of the ship

Rising to descend

Away from it

Days become one

I am who I was