invocation

insides
      milky, some on
 into night
          wise, catching of pine moons above dawn
            for there, cups hold the permanence 
of curbstones       a lone wolf here
   goes a long way towards tipped understanding
      (lilies and river runs
   mist on a pumpkin, blind suns)
          what each leaves guilds the next place
our own rabbit speak or table to put our elbows on
      the room's end is where our cold hearts 
            hand imagination the answer