FROM NOW

4:05; November's last day
Sky grey up high shading to white
At the horizon. A single leaf stirs
In a breeze only it feels. Until now
The universe has gone as planned
But this moment, this leaf,
This breeze from a direction
Never previously suspected
Is as far as the planning goes.
Think carefully; listen to spiders;
Practice looking through walls.

527

No wind; a few branches shift
Perhaps the tree dreams badly or
Wants me to think a breeze blows
That I'm too palpable to feel. A leaf
Falls, describing a plumb line.
I gesture just so, stretching my hand
So the scar on my left index finger
Shows white where a car's door
Decreed it would never quite straighten
The spells that made me may alter;
Who will finish this poem to you?

A POEM FROM THE ALCHERINGA

Green leaves and flowers;
From measureless unbeing
You almost traveled
To the shores of day
A treacherous stone
Or foe unsuspected;
The tale goes untold.

Green leaves and flowers;
Do not rest easy!
Be of great heart
A hero high-headed
Among the unborn.
Find love, kinsman.

Green leaves and flowers
And sky-colored cloth
Echo of an unheard voice
Memory of an unseen face.

AESRED POEM

If I’d my father’s eye and heart

I would feel the bare branch’s regret

As its last leaf goes dancing away

With a sweet-talking breeze.

TREES

The trees across the street

Are frozen in gestures of denial

And indignation. They reach up

Demanding Heaven witness

Their entire innocence

Or point downwards

Swearing by the Earth itself.

One spreads its branches wide

Shocked that a tree of its age,

Its importance, must defend itself

Against the accusing leaves.

CALLING THE MOON

"I remember," the old muse said,
"The first time the moon was called
As witness to a poet's love;
The excitement! The daring!
Others had picked leaves
Or thrown stones (What says passion
Better than a well-aimed rock?)
But to insolently summon the moon--
I half thought the poet would die
Right then. She thought so too
And braced herself against a tree.

But the moon was pleased
And raised her voice when the sea
Was minded to drown you all."

INSTEAD

Erasure

Other words stood here.
Knowing that, surely
You are dissatisfied.
Nothing I can write
Will match what is lost.
The shadow I cast?
Faithful, but not mine.
Read this right now!
Your return may find
A map, a leaf, a will
Proving you the heir
Of some stranger saint.