Three Poems

After Dark

Horticulturists sing their sun-
Colored plants to sleep,
And the night itself responds
By turning their bodies white,
Revealing another aspect, another
Season, another side to things.
All through the garden
The statues suddenly respire.
It might be a trick from the moon's
Library of incantations,
Or maybe it's that moment
In which the old logician
Sets down his disbelief.
Either way, the magic is real.
The dragonflies shine
Like painted glass.

 

Elements

In the dance hall, someone
Squeezes a small moon
And collects the nectar.
Being a god is hard,
Always chasing the prolongation,
The next false recipe
From the alchemist's lab.
Being human is hard too,
Swung about between obsessions,
Believing in a solid self
Behind it all.
But really, we mustn't worry.
There's just a little wind,
A streak of water, the elements
Joining together in your name.
And that longing, that insatiable love,
Is just the play of fire inside you,
It springs back and forth
From darkness.
Let us then be dazzled.
Let us be thankful for its light.

 

The City Reincarnate

Red leaves, so full of light,
They almost turn into storm clouds,
Into a flash of understanding.
All through the city, blossoming
Fills the cracks, undermines
The hard systems,
Causes the economies
To rupture into spring.
I love this letting-go
And returning.
This vibrant happenstance.
Even among the concrete
The seeds find their happiness,
Their molecular instincts.
No one, and I mean no one,
Can stop this world
From coming back to life.