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Collected Poetry

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Beating Heart, Dancing Feet  

  Still Life with Streetlamps 


Into an open space the utility pole rose
as if held captive to its own aspiration
and there, by design, conspired with the assembly
of powerlines and street lamp arms to affix that layer

(as if held captive to its own aspiration)
of life upon itself.  Into the emptiness, unclaimed
by powerlines and street lamp arms to affix that layer
where no living thing could boast

of life upon itself; into the unclaimed emptiness
of indigenous presence, and from where
(where no living thing could boast)
even the sultry tail wind of passing cars

(or from their indigenous presence)
was aggressive and unsettling and dangerous—
even in the tail wind of cars passing
I could see through powerlines and beyond

the aggressive and unsettling and the dangerous
struggling to get away as every journey
could flee through the powerlines, and beyond
was a very great and untethered, perilous one

struggling to get away as every journey
of its existence was to spark the visionary:
a very great and untethered, perilous one was
enough by itself, no matter how stony or senseless.

It's existence was to spark the visionary
in the utility pole rising into an open space—
enough by itself, no matter how stony or senseless
and there, with design, conspired by the assembly
(and there, by assembly, conspired with the design).



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