At dawn,
when the water is a
sidereal, speckled checkerboard
of marigold on violet and blue,
row past the breakers
out to the mouth of the tide;
fill an iron urn
with the briny saliva from
under the tongue of the sea.
Spill it out midday
into a flat-bottomed
blown glass pan.
Take a nap;
leave it under
the August sun
of the Horse Latitudes;
sea spit will not sublimate,
but evaporate.
In the gloaming,
you’ll discover
a crystalline topography,
having successfully mined
the ocean’s ore.
Then
use only this
and nothing else
to create your mandala.
(2004)
