[among clouds . . .]

among clouds

of tiger swallowtails

rising like music

a lone dark female. . .

the touch of her wings

GUSTS 18, Fall/Winter 2013

The Sorry Nickel

still in my veins

the pulse of ancient seas

my kinship

with the lobe-finned fishes

        and with you

the eyes

of the lowland gorilla

cradling

her stillborn infant—

the ache in my womb

            

elephants—

25, 000 a year

dipped in blood

so many ivory icons

of the crucifixion

Ganesha,

remover of obstacles

up on a pedestal

surrounded by coins—

I add a sorry nickel

Atlas Poetica 14, March 2013

[a jar of mustard seed. . . ] and [five percent . . .]

a jar of mustard seed

given me as talisman

of faith . . .

forty years on the shelf

and savorless as dust

A Hundred Gourds 2:2, March 2013

five percent

all we can see

of the cosmos . . .

I release into the unknown

this wraith of prayer

The Bamboo Hut 1: 1, August 2013

[this torn map. . .]

I dream

I’ve missed the train

you’re on . . .

holding this torn map

to the center of what’s real

A Hundred Gourds 2:2, March 2013