16 October 2008


I just killed an ant on my desk.  Poor ant.  He fell to my poem frustration.  I'm in a "renshi" poem cycle that goes from person to person (in a small group) and from the previous person's poem you must take their last line and use it as your title.  I have little to show for my efforts (this is my second round) and now I've killed an ant walking innocently and ant-like across my desk because I could.

Muses, hear that?  Ant sacrifice.

But if there were such passageways...

You could take them
and would

Here to the boathouse, and to the glassy lake--
its quiet necklace of twilight

Your ear to the vibrating catbird throat
robed in song and changing

There are.  There are.  This is heaven on earth and
you are your own lonely animal, soft and failing,
locked in the magnificent twinkling cuffs
of your passing sparkle.