January 6 -- Dean Kostas

PEYOTE CANDLE

                                      after Lee Mullican

         Empty eyes of birds

shatter outward into spheres,

galaxies. Rims

singe rims, rain

lexicons.

Words whorl into folds

of cerebellum,

withered recall:

a dog stroked,

a mallard arcing its argyle neck

toward the sun in a circular lake,

toward a multiverse of disks.

The liquefaction of language

recedes between pages

of a book no one can pry—

a tome whose wings soar

with the tail of a comet

burning itself out.