at the guesthouse
(for Walter and Miguel)
there’s something to books well-placed
by meaning and mold
the wrap of hands giving them home,
landing, welcome
a surround of migrating angles
sight and seeing expressed
at the crossroads of mortal and divine
forms of power, nested prayers,
sound, syllable, sentence
arriving elsewhere
to expose, proclaim, rectify
beside the bed
saint-exupéry, oliver, lorca
what more need be said of such guardians
then near the reading chair
from where the sun rises across the landscape
beyond the windows, rumi
and on the coffee table
the prodigious eames
innovation from an alchemist’s dreams
in these ways
one meets another
greeting that ever-widening
NAMASTE
that rises from guesthouse to guest