Let me look on nothing like myself--
let me look on wild orders.
There are always wars at the borders.
There are always borders.
What keeps plant from animal but a name
hidden somewhere inside?
What keeps saint from murderer but a refusal
to accept the blame?
--I came as close as any came.
Oh tongue of seeded flame,
oh visitant of the rank and tattered petals,
let me be butterfly, or blank
as the heart of a star, heart of water:
the gates apart, lord hawk, lord frog, lord thing--
but teach me how to sing.
Fall 2009 Table of Contents