2
an almond bush flowers
beside the path. In a nearby tree
a butterfly, still wet,
hangs, helpless and trembling
in the spring breeze
clinging to its broken chrysalis
Lovers walk
along the promenade
by the river. On the other side
the barges move, so slowly
that clouds pass them
a wind comes off the river
cool, clean
new as hard little knobs
of leaves
that have just unrolled, pushing out into the sun
it caresses tree trunks, swirling around them,
exploring hollows between gnarled roots
lingers, lifting scabs of loose bark
with curious fingers
and then is gone
pausing only to ruffle
the bristling tail
of a squirrel
Lovers walk
along the promenade
by the river, sapient
with the wisdom of spring
oblivious to all
but the life they inhale with every breath and the
sensation
of blood throbbing in their fingers
where they touch
the wind moves on
to touch the butterfly, who,
her womb's blood dried on her wings
falls, catches the air
and flies

2
I thought I would be a musician
but I can't play
and I can't compose
and I don't know much about recording
so I can't imagine where I might fit in

it bothers me at times
the airs of obese connoisseurs
rejecting everything they haven't written themselves
because it's not new or fashionable or smart
and, because they sit in stuffed armchairs at the top
of the world
they can do it
You up there!
are you Time?
Who are you, then, to say--
what is News
and what is Art
and what is Music?
all the same
I don't think I was cut out to be a musician
I will be a linguist instead
Or perhaps a poet

2
a handful of days,
swept up from the ground
dry and dead, whirled in a cloud
up to the sky, falling in line
form a V, the leader balloons
into a ragged cloud, tearing across the blue miles
melting into a muddle of gray,
squeezed into a ball
pulled apart and
smeared, coming loose and
falling in drops
one by one

2
No! don't go!
don't leave me! here in this void
where nothing is real
and nothing means anything
and shapes only shadow reality
but you do go
always!
one day
I will find a way
to break the barrier
even now
it is thinner than life
the barest whisper stands between us
rejected
you don't even look back
ever-proud, cruel!
For whom do you make those beautiful smiles?
Not the face in the mirror!
Your shadow taunts me
with stories of you
drives me mad
till I could almost…

but no,
one day
I promise
I will find a way
and
you will not walk away from the mirror alone

2
it came out of the night like a demon
wind shrieking in its wake
blood and fire roaring from its wings
we leapt into eternity, but not far enough
one by one it caught us
ate our souls
and spewed us, speechless,
choked with death's gasp
into the void
to wander, wondering
through the night, caught
in an endless moment,
a circle, that begins
and ends
in 'why?'

2
golden bronze
black-sparkling life looks out from under lashes
tangled with sunshine
greens glow, reds vibrate
with native fire and ancient dignity
spoken into the warm cloth
breathed in, chanted over, worked in
panther-eyed child, sitting naked
on worn fibers, smiling
At me, the ignorant one

2
words linger on my tongue,
hesitating…
I watch his eyes.
Shadows.
Underneath the black ice,
something hard, cruel,
frightening.
Where is the young man I knew?

2
Motion
too swift for the eye to follow
the turban and silk-wrapped performers are liquid
motion itself,
restless antagonists locked in a frenzy of flashing
clubs,
that never clash
dueling in perfect precision
while the leaping torchlight glints on the gold and
scarlet pins,
and flickers in the darting eyes.

2
Dead planets fill a wasted sky
where dry pyres burn away and day
and night are one,
dark undivided,
lighted only by the glow of stones still stirring,
slain stars burning
worlds unpeopled slowly turning with a ponderous
listlessness,
their wind-rift tresses' misty depths
with dew emburdened, rain enduringly
on seas untraveled
as, unraveling, the ages ring
with roar of cosmic war,
of ore severed and far sundered
in a thundering explosion
shattered motion in a frozen frame,
clouds wreathed in flame and writhing,
piercing long years of the empty night,
with savage might its fabric tearing,
bearing outward and beyond,
and on,
and on...