INVITATION

                              Whatever name the event has,
                              it can be understood as an
                              invitation.
                                       — William Dickey

Such luck. And no doubt the wind
  blowing through. Every time, each
of the smallest maneuvers — and in

all directions. A largess of open
  doors and a staircase that winds
that way forever. Come in ...

the handiwork is intricate: here
  is perpetual decision, all your dizzy
angels dancing in that ring, every

dream you ever had shifting like
  sand toward some indefinite
sea, a silence, perhaps, or

a shout. And here it is again only
  different. It is understood: you
are reckless. You are strange. Event

& interruption are aligned. And
  endless. Once your eye swings open,
you'll have to see what that might mean.

First published in The Drunken Boat