Fragmented / Enchanted Poem by john clinock

Even as the center holds
various preconceptions
of mirrored identity -
(Sensible face,
Pedestrian limbs,
Imagined organs) ,
fragment and
peel away
shedding more than was known.

Enchanted by this fragmentation
waiting becomes me.
The door is open
yet I choose to linger
in this sweet and bitter place
where honeyed magics
pass through air,
pollinating thought
and flesh
and dreams,
fragmenting towers with lightning.

There is no pain in this re-formation,
this cell-by-cell re-construction,
only a patient bliss,
a core of Buddha love,
an attitude of slow turning
across the wavering tiles,
under the melting clock
where I watch through your eyes
the slow dissolve
of this room
where I wait.