The Rains Retreat
1
Parched summer sky:
but let my vows rain through
and every leaf and all places be washed
that your radiance spread its span
and the eye of all things open –
unadopted, coolly present.
Aug. 2
2
Beautiful regard:
late summer evening.
Among the tremors of intent
the martins’ wings flick the pond
with the harmonies of vanishing.
Aug. 23
3
Leaving October
a bright moon after the storm
in and out of the clouds.
Morning will bring more rain,
present the shining of dead leaves;
and, like the richest seeing,
a mist that penetrates the bone.
Oct. 23
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A Pole
A pole, for creepers, but big ones
I make here with my skeleton.
Straight as I have never been
I break into the earth now,
then death
and the plant will wind themselves around me.
In years to come you still find me
here, changed, but with the same bones.
I have organs made of wood
with sap running inside them,
young shoots hold the spine and all together
and a smooth, green skin are my leaves.
From the skull sprout a couple of buds,
and during the day I see the world with flowers
that close themselves at night.
Moss grows on me to indicate
the North, impossible now
to miss the one direction
I want to take.
The wind
the forceful wind goes over me
and caresses and shakes me.
It almost seems as if I am singing
with that leaf between my jaws. |
