O that blackbird swarmed by a silver/green rainbow of Flies, sinking into yesterday's meadow. Ancient Father, I wanted to seek you in all earnestness/ farther past the nights of my blackest visions/ In that space I called and the terror ran screaming. Angels in that whitest raiment sang the glory of our truer dreaming/ As the soul in the calm rapture exists as a symbol/We must move this bleak objective asunder. Great green corridor is this wild shaded flowing mosque. Alive, the somber air permits the flutter of dragon fly wings/ now reflected by the brown and crimson currency of this oldest River's wishes/Where this ebbing water wonders the indifference of stones, You had said Go/Go seek the Sun/ I went wandering after a poem. July 1996 Revised 7/26/2006 Photo of Poem w/digital effect 2009