It is my hope that you’ll read this poem in many different ways: as a series of short poems, as one longer poem, or even out of order, if it suits you. I found as I was revising that many of these lines and stanzas seemed interchangeable. And I myself had a difficult time choosing an order in which to present them to you.
i. dust in my eyes harvest in my bones to write a poem, i must begin with a poem: air meanwhile, the sun wrestles my soul of leaves i seek my own mystery on a forehead among foliage, living flesh, the finer instruments of understanding the fog is present a bird dives my eyes are smothered by salt these islands are revelations thick with juniper stars already, they cover you ii. this whole country pits the night against its shores forgets the secret origins of stars (the world is scorched and everyone believes it) with head and body i know it at this same naked hour i close my eyes my hands seek the world iii. a quieter silence a woman in her own vision is a symphony of experience a harmony within walls i won’t run from it my breasts are the scars of mountains echoes of sandpiper stars barrel and beloved ashes cover my senses like rain iv. of sea and wild song: a fraction of inconsistency the pen is the same; the words slowly grow different this mouth is transparent i am breeze and i am home where the dust settles miles away from my fulfillment