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City Inside the Blizzarddark storm-beaten city of stone pure lilting of electric flutesgold spheres bright as glass a radish leaf nightfall descent of snow and seeds the moon enormous, dull and rufous light shines from gold slits of windows he came to this country with opals and aventurine to pay his way do not think of him as man or woman but as the four registers of voices there are things that outweigh comfort blossoming pear tree in spring snow fields of snowgrass groves of white trees white leaves no wind and cairngorm shadows at the mouths of caves rain falling the dust of summer the city with its carbon heart trees with pale-scarlet roots zinc oboes playing silver of rivers in the distance ice rivers under frozen rain the air is sullen as an old otter in a cage he sang an unknown liturgy and paid three opals to have his future told can one read a cat's face deep bright eyes that do not change expression starcarbon seething from the sun's white rim she would not tell him the day that he would die what do you call it, this world |
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Issue #13, January, 2000 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.