The Veil and the Wheel My strength My resolve is beyond all bounds. All Celtic curiosity Bent Concertinaed Up in my chest Crumpled Stamped Down Hard And almost absolutely. How did I arise? Where is the horizon I wished so ardently for? Again it telescopes in and in And lands up On my doorstep The compass is redirected The true pole Magnetic North Revolves not around a distant ice-cap But burning white hot Around this man This son of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob This mirage, this distorting heat haze Scintillating around this soul Making him imperceptible, opaquely glimpsed. Indistinct As though through fog. Do we ever truly see each other? First passion is another myopia, another veil. Wrought on a loom of steel weaving a cloth of milk thistle Not easily torn in the first heat of knowing. The second is a veil of my own making A mythological veil Of Golden Fleece qualities Glistening, entrapping in its bewit...