Mind of Rime

Plates, stellars, needles, columns—
slow as ice feathers grow into wind
I comprehend why the bound boy thrashed
while the demons went howling out—

yawn-wide mouths and crackling snake bodies—
capped columns, crystals—not a change
of mind, but changed by the mind—
spatial dendrites, irregular crystals—

Could tell he was possessed they said
by his eyes turned inward—spherical particles,
cuplike fragments—brought forth from within
how winds rush rain into ice—I was addicted

to God and wanted to swallow my own throat—
Temple kissed numb by a firefly wearing
the devil's face—capped clusters, irregular
stellars—Hoar frost blurs the windows—

His tongue a smoke I cannot grasp, guts
indifferent wicks—chipped columns, sickle
clusters—Screws Himself into my navel and runs,
leaving towers of pointed glass in His wake—

needles, needlelike fragments—The boy was blind
before the demons entered and until they left—
In their exit I see God's mouth—an angel
in the form of noctilucent clouds—pale pink skin,

mint shadows, black eyes and lips, wings of graupel,
sleet, hail—it may not be an angel—grovel, sleep,
hell—unspherical plates, particle cups, clustered
irregulars—After exorcism the boy could hardly

stand—shiver—what he knew—what burned
within him now all over—So cold—my mind—
rimed by our minds melted—grapple, sleek, help—
uncupped crystals, sick spatials, sphered chips—

absence of frozen found inside wind—demon
event—said fever, fervor, fury—fragmentlike splits,
columned needles—God needs you to be good—
soft diamonds, slush—To be good you need God.