Seth Jani
Ascension Myth
He visualized a bird
Rising from the mass
Of huddled things:
The black trees, the city streets,
The confused, burning words
In the mouths of lovers.
The bird rose trailing
Streaks of clarity
In its wake,
The whole world
Pulled behind it
Like radiant cargo.
People began looking up
From the small centers
Of their lives
To see the bird glittering
Into space.
Gravity had been uprooted,
Tethering the earth
To something far off
In the mercurial darkness.
The wind from the bird’s
Wings replaced the air
With sustaining fractals.
We breathed a new element
Into our lungs.
We fell upwards
Like startled fish
Poking their heads
Through silent water.
Dowsing
In the green spaces
There is an animal
We call the soul.
At least the light
On tapestry walls
We consider spectral,
The blueness of marinas
At sundown.
Don’t believe it’s anything
But pragmatic radiance
And even the trees
Will discard your problems.
Being real is half
Discernable root,
And half deductible wind.
The birds believe in music
Because it erupts
From their throats
As pressure,
As unquantified flame.
The element they speak of
Is like dowsing for water
In arroyos of salt.
There were rivers there once,
And will be again.
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has been published widely in such places as The Coe Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, VAYAVYA, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.
Ascension Myth
He visualized a bird
Rising from the mass
Of huddled things:
The black trees, the city streets,
The confused, burning words
In the mouths of lovers.
The bird rose trailing
Streaks of clarity
In its wake,
The whole world
Pulled behind it
Like radiant cargo.
People began looking up
From the small centers
Of their lives
To see the bird glittering
Into space.
Gravity had been uprooted,
Tethering the earth
To something far off
In the mercurial darkness.
The wind from the bird’s
Wings replaced the air
With sustaining fractals.
We breathed a new element
Into our lungs.
We fell upwards
Like startled fish
Poking their heads
Through silent water.
Dowsing
In the green spaces
There is an animal
We call the soul.
At least the light
On tapestry walls
We consider spectral,
The blueness of marinas
At sundown.
Don’t believe it’s anything
But pragmatic radiance
And even the trees
Will discard your problems.
Being real is half
Discernable root,
And half deductible wind.
The birds believe in music
Because it erupts
From their throats
As pressure,
As unquantified flame.
The element they speak of
Is like dowsing for water
In arroyos of salt.
There were rivers there once,
And will be again.
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has been published widely in such places as The Coe Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, VAYAVYA, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.