Siloe

 A torrent runs

Silent - nameless

From which the lion

lifts his reddened jaws

Stained from the heads

Crushed in the land of many

Where fresh with echoes:

Of ring of steel

And shouts of men

Cut down in the plain

To lay like Buddhas

In quiet contemplation

With festered wounds

And perfect minds

Now clearly chanting

Where David plucks

His shining stones.

He goes forth from the brook

And back again

To drink and to listen

Alongside the lion

And the singing men.

Fall Fishing

To cast a hook

Into mirrored waters

To drag the lakebed

Clean against the sky

To feel the pulse of

Ancient vertebrae

Slip through my hands

Mangled on the shore

To trace the sun across the lake:

Ingathering solar pole

Reaching down, reaching down

Piercing even into the deep!