Oh
Oh sun
preparing your own eclipse
from the last second of this minute
to the first second of the next
a sob sits at the back of the tongue
coaxing the sun off the branch of a silhouetted tree
it’s nothing unusual, this feeling,
of knowing that it will only happen
if it’s in the very middle of things
the light spins like a slow motion thought
rough but not clumsy
and sunspots
slow-burning spheres
turn as though unsure
before settling into puddles and spills
almost as if waiting
for that final moment of light
..
..
..
..
..
She
She remembers
hours of transparent colors
the smell of apples
the warmth of rosary beads
her thoughts interrupted
by a drop of sweat
from her cheek to the dust
She remembers
the sound of insects
at 3 in the afternoon
the whispering of the wild grass in the fields
like a comb through unruly hair
how high the sky seemed to fall
till she became dizzy with watching
and seemed to flow after it
up through the roots of the grass itself
Ah, she remembers
the gray hour that touched her
with its mute loneliness,
of drinking and eating alone,
of listening for sounds
like a snail moving sideways
degree by degree
searching from one end of the horizon to the other
..
..
..
..
..
So As To Be
The sidelong trail
of the comet
flaming brighter
with
each
downwards
leap
In the valleys of the moon
a frozen garden awaits it
..
..
..
..
..
Run
Run back
lightly, quickly
don’t listen
don’t look
don’t surrender to the familiar shout
the sheets fastened to the ground
form a tent
to spin within
to brace yourself within
the air is violet
and everywhere you look
the violence of roses