Tamara Rikman


May 15 - June 14, 2014


1. The Vision of Er                                                                          

What drew me on in my own faltering

summoned in due time to rise from the damp meadow

the journey begun? The unfolding ambit a whiplash

of looping paths, quick vanishing sightlines

I knew not whether earth or air cushioned my walk

and plodded on, but whose words – “the stars shine

through the holes of my cloak when I spread it out in the pitch

dark of night for shelter” – had wandered

into my mind, the future more vivid (if true

I shall be humbled) a sieve to sift wheat

or barley, while on either side scratchmarks, indigo dimples

beckoned, and I thought I saw a canister


floating above me like an asteroid, or was it a trapezoid?

Stenciled shapes, charcoal fisheyes, amidst


a column of light, more radiant, purer than cloud-borne Iris

spanned the heavens and plunged to the sea-floor


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