Disturbance of Surfaces
Strange metaphors succeed: solstice fish,
carnal soup, swallowtail taxidermist,
and other phrases that ripple
the once-glassy lake where chakra eyes
now appear, floating provocatively.
A coyote appears in the park,
(this poem will not bring peace
to the grief-stricken or explain
blood or how to staunch it.)
Comments will be included
on how the wind has ended
–with a few terrifying gusts—
the life of a tree.
That through all of this cold,
pure daylight, a coyote walks
across a sere field, its long
thick tail moving at a metronome’s
slow beat, reminding you this
isn’t the dog next door.
The day has fierce teeth
that break the skin without
drawing blood. The body
alive, the skin alive, lips
that can suck, the tongue,
that plump wonder,
the brown grasses telling
you to love this brown,
its delicacy, its mutedness.
What should we memorize.
as we live, speak, sing?
I try to memorize the cold of this day;
cold that burns, breathing through
fleece, breath slime.
Omne ignotum pro magnifico
Whatever is unknown
is held to be magnificent.
