(Poem #407 on new numbering scheme)
I walked on highways made from earth and smoke,
Congealed by time's long thoughtful discourses:
A dreamlike, dark assemblage faintly seen,
Engravings wide inscribed on broken stones,
Tectonic disputations, spoken gaps
Between the layers stacked up deep in dreams,
Abstractions merely cast away by stars,
Untouchable lost ages all arrayed
Like heaven's bland mementoes filed away,
And sun-slaked silt that's filled up ancient seas;
Constraints all drawn like lines upon a map
To paint the present's smooth soliloquies.
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