Night Sea
after Agnes Martin
We had a great timewalking into oblivionbefore dinner
unburdened by the windof tinkering conversationa glorious glut
of being shut upby implied continuumspun off in ultramarine pieces
though I don’t thinkyou can imagineeven a particle of vastness
I’m not able to tell you anythingreally, but this is the realthing—a picture, an interior
cinched in a net whereevery thread makes youits maker so twisted
by subliminallyilluminated gold triggershow far you are
the flux remains grittyand stutters blue uponblue endless cells
a suffering wave is notabout nature butknown best in the mind
once there was a gridand in it two loversevaporating and the sea said
one feels as thoughone is a panic in completecertain darkness one
has made someterrible error generating formsin sand some hades
that we have got tohave we have got to knowworlds beyond this
Milk River
I, like the deer,
appeara feral…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, September/October 2020