32.

the dark possibilities

of barroom jazz

coiled smoke and yellowed

glass bent through loss

in eighth-notes (swing it

) flatted fifths, that

incidental thing thrown

long over blooming

color, blue light, a blues

march spun into

improvised

clarity

(the hat, just so

tilted over closed

eyes) those lies, so

fluid as to eclipse what

ever was ever

was ever

was

31.

so the morning took you

and not the night’s infinite

chambers, where the dogs

run wild (or so you sang

) not the sleek, long hounds

but the round, rising glow

upward through new green

with a whisper (your song

) and sage advice for the

timid – leave alone – lift

your old coat from the bed

from across (still singing

) your now finished legs

and rise, through ceilings

out, above these two rivers

leaving just (your loving

sound to soothe the living

30.

and the orioles arrive

astonishing, set against

a new canopy, for an

instant, artificial brilliance

(can we believe true
beauty?) then clearly alive
weightless, at work

singing in swollen light

weaving the hanging nest

(David’s sling…) above

the wet black driveway

it’s been a long winter

and now on wings

from across these rivers

stretching into longer days

dreams (dangling) amid

supple limbs and

the unfolding lives

of orange birds

29.

Luzmarina

I will tell you something

about your spine

it will stoop

and pull you deeper

into these curves

you must throw your

shoulders back

and lift your eyes

(brown as tagua nuts

) begin the walk

and find your way

back to Ecuador

light of the sea

who told you happiness

was growing old in

this bent, cold

place?

28.

the cormorant is

how darkness folds

languid black letters

through blacker pages

quatrains threaded in

out of silence, slick

wings tucked, doubled

and long neck slung

those same sad curves

wrapping the heart

invisibly, perched on

balanced, searching

stillness for a shining

calligraphy beneath

surfaces, flashes of

meaning worth flight

and the dive below

glistening