looking at his coffee cup by the window at Central Billiards
he is thinking of Mayan blue
surviving fifteen hundred years after the firing of the clay
he likes the way the light comes in to where he is sitting
the waitress is kind and the few other regulars don’t bother him
his serious gaunt face and worn plaid shirt are familiar
but no one recognizes him here
an artist seated at the centre of the universe
entering words into the codex
natural and supernatural worlds surround him
as he opens the symbolic portal to the spirit world
his job is to maintain the cosmic balance
to record the cosmological myths
he will perform all the necessary rituals
he will assert the community’s beliefs
the doors to creation are open
the ways of sunlight are loosened