From the Archives : On Böcklin's Isle of Death (2011)

The path ahead that threads

          through the black ground

                         lighter layered than the dark

               shadow grove of the cypress

path that leads past the island

                    shades of saltbush and bone

          spireal as cypresses brush

                            away each fold of canvas

                                   dark into which you are reborn

                         the dark of eyelids

                                                                                closed

          as all thirst was prophecy

                    silver-gray for this cool island cell

fared over waters that will have washed

                                   all shores to one

                         as you were always shown this way

                                   approaching

                                                  never on any map

          and how beautiful the colors of sky

                enough for every

                                                       one of us