the wayward spirit wafts in
                through the window when the patterns of weeks, months passed, at last,

let go and shift
                she moves about the room like Franny Glass making one or two things

flutter a bit, and is gone
                out past the opposite shoulder as I turn in to see what I hear

to notice things
                in the room which were always there but hadn’t been noticed for weeks

or maybe months
                and which had obviously been there for a purpose, staring through the books

on the shelf to find
                a forgotten bookmark, an absent fold, maybe a latterdaymexicanpink

autumnal ritual –
                seven parts revelationinitiation and fifteen parts flutterbybestowal –                                              

curiouser and curiouser
                are the ways of the spirit: if I follow, will I flutter, will I perch or will I fall?

either way I’ll find
                the pink of gist and need to meditate before I waft or get stolen

but the spirit talks
                of grounding, without talking, for she is no airy/faeree: the meaning disappears

the more you look
                but in looking at the unfindability you discover all the meaning for to see:

body, soul and beauty
                but no room at the inn for language, ‘you can speak a hundred languages

if you want but
                you’re never as wise as the illiterate who speaks with love in her heart’

she says, without a single word
                but thought of a hundred languages smaller than the stars which float away;

the language of Waywarduese
                butterflies about all over the points, and all of those points held

in one wing-spread,
                colourful and puckering hold, sprinkled and dlappled like rain

                                Oh!
                                Can I have it?
                                Is it for me?
                                It’s for me?
                                It’s for me!
                                It’s Mine!
                                You stole it from me!
                                I’ll be generous and
                                share it with you
                                if you let me keep it.
                                Please