There was a poet Salvatore Ala
Who tried to engrave his name
In the hardest substance known to poets.
The effort wore him down —
His body failed — but not before
One last desperate cut,
Carving alA — a mirror of the name
That made and unmade him.

I surrender to the three-legged sun
rushing round the earth
so fast I can’t keep up.

I surrender to the triskelion
tattooed on my shoulder
and to the sunset of my life.

One day there will be no more of me,
neither bone nor ash will remain,
not a strand of hair.

But these flowers will flower
with my love woven into their fabric
and they shall be my eyes in a blind world.

The fig leaves will return
with my courage and spirit
caught in their wind and shaking their hands.

The three-legged sun will return
running up the hill, like sunrise,
and I’ll be home again.

for Josie, Phil, Jordan, and Rowan

All the people turn to face the band—
talkers fall silent, glasses pause in air,
even despondent spirits lift,
even the serving staff are grooving.

The band is so into the music
they don’t notice the audience
drawing closer to the unseen fire.

Some nights the flame reveals itself,
rising bright and clear,
lighting a way for the lost and troubled.

After the show, the audience leaves happy—
they carry a spark of that fire home
to keep the night alive inside them.

What’s brighter than a Baltimore oriole
On a sycamore tree,
Brighter than a blue jay in a white birch,
Brighter than a goldfinch through a dogwood,
Brighter even than a cardinal in a cottonwood,
Sunset, singing through the branches–
Holding the last note, like a gloriole,
Like a shimmer across the stillness of thought.

Every day when I look
both inward and outward
at my own eternity,

I know I must be drifting free.

I can’t remember the port I left from,
nor see the far shore that holds me.

In my birdcages I have robins,
red-winged blackbirds,
cardinals, jays, and a Baltimore oriole.
He shines brightest of them all,
with a flute-like, liquid song.
There are no bars on my cages,
all doors left open wide—
for my pets to come and go.
They return because I sweeten
the water with freedom.

They have green teeth and drool rain.
They deceive your eyes and cloud your ears.
They fill your chest with unsettled seas.
They are the cancers of time,
Ravaging the landscape of spirit.
They make you lean into the world,
Even as death pushes you back.
They are the decapitators of flowers,
Mad gardeners with scythes.
Beasts with a thousand open mouths,
Chimeras of their own emptiness,
War-machines advancing on many fronts,
Waterless tsunamis of anxiety.
They hammer air like blasted eardrums.
They are out-of-control vessels,
Tossed on the seas of oblivion.

And yet I see flags of change flying.
I see dance on the stage of stillness.
I quiver in their intenser waves,
Like a shaking reed or shuddering flag.
And yet I feel their power to uplift,
Tearing the leaves of my voice
From the tree of my being,
Like ashes from unextinguished fires
That might glow again in other storms—
A promise carried on Shelley’s restless breath.

Did anyone else see it today?
Gallons of goldfinches
Poured out of the clouds,
Like gold coins were falling,
Like the wings of the sun
Were coming undone.
Some flocked, and others scattered,
Singing and flying
Like improvised jazz,
Like the music of joy,
Like playthings of peace—
Heard and seen,
But just out of reach.

My head was full of the sun’s sperm
It could give birth to anything
It could impregnate death with poems

The earth was my bed
Nature was my wife
I was the father of dreams

Green ants covered branches
I said to the flower bloom
And it bloomed with mirrors inside

In spectral graveyards
Every grave is a garden
Of grasses and moonflowers

When I stood
My head cleared the clouds
Who knew the moon
Could be touched by real poems

First its stillness held me captive—
A fox snake in the grass.
Then, when I nudged it,
It rattled its tail to fool me.
When it curled up
Into a striking position,
It was like copper melting,
The essence of hydraulics
Came into view,
Like a rope of water
Collapsing into itself.
Strangest of all
Was how energized
I was by the encounter,
Like I’d been envenomated
With energy venom,
Or a spirit snake
Was crawling round my spine,
And I too was seeking the sun.