blood on a slide–thumbprint in a pool–
plasma washed across blue sky–lotus
chant sutra–blood above the limen–jewel
in the beak of the great green heron–notice
the breath breathing you–room for a finger
–room for a nail to unhinge the South-West
border–orange blossoms crowd-sourcing
the sun–red stars in the mind’s softest
SEVEN QUESTIONS (PRIVATE/PUBLIC)
1. Where is symmetry found in nature?
A dandelion puff, a goose’s foot, the lilting flight of the great blue heron
2. What is the tenor of your aloneness today?
Enervation after deep slumber spiked with florid lime
3. Which memories looped your dreams last night?
My dog bolting toward a street whose traffic I could not see & the clean
nesting lids of yogurt cups
4. Which question cannot be answered?
Is she dead or dying? Does she lie in state?
5. Why the morning walk?
Sometimes a beast / soaring from the clearing
6. Why an evening walk?
For the slant of sun on wind on leaves, the telegraphic light,
the small renunciations
7. Which question remains a question?
The die-cut, diving flight of starlings, their tapered, tear-shaped wings
Once, not long ago, at the beginning of the sequester, I would see
two geese always together, one slightly larger, on the great lawn in
the evenings, by the silver pond in the mornings, honking at the
dog, pooping, eating grass, kind of rude and kind of dumb. I
thought they had flown North, as they disappeared for about a
week. Then, I saw one standing serenely on a dung-covered bench,
looking across the pond. My first thought was there you are and
gross. Then, I saw that it was standing on one leg, not honking, not
moving, bearing its thick, round weight without its mate, without