i
the soul magnifies god
as i pour water on the ground
in the year of the wolf
one two three four
moon circle moon
the surface
the surface of everything i know is a dream--
i dream that my grandfather
is healthy again,
living alone on a gra**y mountain
in a tiny shack
with an outhouse and
hot springs
where he swims everyday
he doesn't have any friends
but he keeps journals
and waters flowers in pots
on a small windowsill
a black streak across the sky
like a question
and his voice cracks
and the plants depend on balance
in different forms
when i rub a red petal
with my thumb and forefinger
my grandfather quietly scolds me
holding a pen
his hand cured of parkinsons
he has learned to be merciful
[he has learned to live delicately,
walking among flowers]
the surface
the surface of everything i know is a dream
so i write my poem with
shaking hands
i try to turn my pen into swords
spinning globes
in a room
walking in a straight line
aligned with the moon
and a broken sidewalk
necklace
monsters in sewers
switchblade rain and tears
ii
i have not learned
to manipulate sound [teach me]
i do my best
a mental photograph
smile
i am flooded with caterwaul
[touch me]
please love me
i am trying not to get loved
the light inside the eyes
is a firewall of crystals
crystals crystals
crystals on a concrete line