Can you be stunningly inventive,
linguistically eclectic, unflinchingly brave
but still grounded in the necessary and sustaining?
The reflecting pool surrounded by the beautiful
well-manicured lawn is flanked by the verticality
of cypress trees and liveried servants.
Evenings when the sky is clear and delicate
as a flute of blown glass, voices carry
through the air. Tonight, over the barely
audible hum of the electric fence,
someone is reading a poem threaded with bodies
and explosions, the words our shared
humanity snaking through like a dark skin,
like a cloudy vapor, like a distant glacier
unsheared, melting soon into the sea.
In response to Via Negativa: Grave.