Your pen traced the ridges of mountains,
sharp, as to cut open the heavens
so the elegant graffiti on rumored pearly gates
would fall down and you could wallow
in the words of those rejected entry. Your hand
curled in languages no one learned to follow, so you,
undeterred, carve circles in the floorboards,
rugged, revealing
pools of second hand stars. Unknowable
like the stacks and the strands, you
loot the light bound to undo, you
dive in anyway.