11 February 2011

Home, after a long absence

...not many things as blue
        as the sky in Taos on a clear winter day... .

When Kali the Destroyer gives final suck
         to the world that will die and yet be reborn
The color of the poison with which she anoints
         her nipples
Will be the color of that sky.

The great god Thor has yet to find a paint
         so blue for his sky shield
And when he casts it behind the midnight sun
It looks a little pale and worn out
Compared to the sky in Taos.

It is said that Antonio Gaudi never
         came to Taos,
And so the pilgrims to La Sagrada Familia will not see there
         true blue, but
         only the approximately blue sky of heaven.

Every summer, beside a dusty old adobe in
         Arroyo Seco,
A cornflower sprouts; and, if it gets precisely the correct amount
         of water, and of drought,
It blossoms, a single floret of Taos sky blue.

Long ages ago, before there was a Taos,
         or a world,
The great old ones, Father and Mother,
         raised up their perfect child and
         named him Death.
And they clothed him in black -- of which
         darkest night was made in memory.
And they planted the sun in tribute
         to his smile.
And made the Earth so that all things
         precious therein could be his toys.
And so that none would ever mistake him --

His eyes are mirrors
         that reflect only those things
         as blue as the sky in Taos on a clear winter day.

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