June 22, 2003

I.
Stones under water,
pebbles in the flow
turtle eggs emerge
to dance the undertow.

II.
On the surface of sunlight,
blue skies gasp for air,
oaks dissolve in mourning
— the tears of ancients there.

III.
The rainbow’s liquid rapture
floats on memories of clouds—
the curvature of dolphins
rides the signature of fog.

IV.
Under Psyche’s wings expands
the river’s heart— red bones—
til Eros echoes silence— wavy
essence of her moans.

V.
The vortex of her losses
caresses each pale rock,
tumbles below the constant
torrent of her talk.

VI.
Her torso sways above
the insistence of her fears.
The waltz of life contorted
as the ebbing of the years.

VII.
Her solitude a boulder that
surrenders to the sea — where
the pageant underwater plays
for rocks and sighs and leaves.

Question: Did you see that branch move?
It wasn’t normal. Then the birds
flew off all at once.
What was it?

Answer: She looks like the wind
speaks the tall dance
of the forest, laughs light
as air, whispers rage.

Question: Where did She come from?

Answer: She who was once the sun
now incites, seeds, spreads,
fires, screams, cyclones.
Invisible, she storms free,
her force unbridled now
as any mother’s mercy.

Question: What do you hear?

Answer: Her eery songs caress
the contours of the hills,
furrowed like the face

Of the old woman she is.
Wrapping herself around
this world and the other.

Question: What do you feel

Answer: She shudders, doors open.
A leaf of silver sighs. She
turns her breath on us.

Out of the silt, in a pointed stone from the
sand on the ocean floor, bubbles rise.

Loving them too much, I cannot breathe,
afraid to disturb the delicate progress

of froth. Astonished, foam spirals,
its circular ascent guards us all,

Irregular and certain, above and below.
Seaweed and shocks of white coral

Escort each unexpected turn, bursting
together towards the surface.

Beneath the killing eye, a plump morsel
stirs— scurries in the dusk-filled weeds.
Rustling in the fir branch far above is a
sharpness— certain as our deaths.

Living is to despise— to worship— this
low percussive tone of air and bone—
heads circling, claws waiting, faithful
to the moment as our hearts’ beating.

Into the night, our souls will go out.
Long ago, some cautious men placed
an owl’s heart next to that of a woman
asleep— she might unknowingly speak

Secrets into the waiting darkness. Who? What
will be left behind this time? Dear life, many little
deaths, precious dailiness— the lovers, milk
and sighs in babies’ breath,

The light in toddlers’ blue-green eyes,
schoolgirls’ tongues bright and brash.
The owl seizes what scurries past.
Still autumn is, the hair turns gray,

Blood rhythms abandon women,
men’s necks sag, lines in the jaws
harden fast, oh, night procession.
Oh, fierce raptured flight, take aim,

Bear down— rattling squeeze engulf
tender juiciness of flesh.

That impeccable sky cast Sunday afternoon
Into a roll of severe clear. Emerald reed held
Sun drop and shivered with bay wind.

The family biked the levee. Gabe at three
Perched the helm his fat fist clenched
Handlebar shiny as sunshield

And bade Dad pedal fast to find elusive water
Fowl. At ten, Uri’s tan limbs propelled rusty Schwinn
Effort unapparent along narrow bank as silent

Glide of carp undulating rhythmic bluefin
Far behind at six, Raphael wavered an uneasy balance,
Training wheels posed perilous impediment to gravel.

Mama clucked behind, “You can
Do it, now steer to the right.”
Overhead noise captured, stretched

Their gaze skyward where sleek
Jets flew, dove, reeled breakneck speed.
Wings inches apart, so close.

Humans shouting — no contest
To the din — exclaimed techno ballet,
Roller coaster, giant bouquet, dart game.

Storybook sky, once backdrop, now
To chariot or fluffy rabbit, then
Provided space for hunk of steel hurdling

Gasp from afar. Can he see the other’s face?
From the cockpit, the wings 36 inches apart?
Raphael wobbles, falls, his heavenly vision failed

To remind him earth-bound runt.