Thursday, May 09, 2013

How Loud This Voice Inside: tanka Sequence


Published in Poetry Pacific 
[Spring Issue 2013]


How Loud This Voice Inside: tanka Sequence

reading
with the lamp on,
I see a crater
where our bed last lay…
we watch the distance burn       

you are the last ring
of smoke
to be held tight…
           we’re lucky
           we’re not art

sunken moon,
my mind upside down
in the sky…
moonlight cannot polish stone,
or pester our transparencies

how silent the trees
how loud the shots of hunters
how broken
the geese wings…how hidden
the pocket knife tearing my desire

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