Circumference

Vanilla farmers in Madagascar sit in the dark with rifles;
          at two a.m., after a thunderstorm,

I lurch down the hallway and check the oak floor
          under a skylight, place a towel

in a pan. As if armed, waiting for a blue string
          to trip a thief, I listen

in the hush at a point where ink flows out of a pen
          onto a white Sahara of a page.

Adjusting the rearview mirror in the car before backing
          out of the garage, I ask, what

is the logarithm of a dream? How do you trace a sphere
          whose center is nowhere?

It is hard to believe farmers pollinate vanilla orchids
          with toothpick-sized needles,

yet we do as needed; pouring syrup on a pancake,
          I catch the scent of vines,

race along the circumference, sensing what it’s like to sit
          in the dark with nothing in my hands.



From The Glass Constellation: New and Collected Poems
(Copper Canyon Press, 2021)

Ravine

Stopping to catch my breath on a switchback,
I run my fingers along the leaves of a yucca:

each blade curved, sharp, radiating from a core—
in this warmest of Novembers, the dead

push out of thawing permafrost: in a huge
blotch of black ink that now hangs, framed,

on a wall, Gu Cheng wrote the character
fate, and a woman shrugs, “When you look

at me, you’re far away.” Last night, gazing
at Orion’s belt and sword sparkling in the sky,

I saw how we yearn for connection where
no connection exists: what belt, what sword?

Glancing at boulders in the ravine, I catch
a flock of Stellar’s jays scavenging along

the ground; I scavenge among pine needles
for one to breathe into flame, gaze

at yuccas whose blades collect dew at dawn
and at dust floating in sunlight above the trail.



From The Glass Constellation: New and Collected Poems
(Copper Canyon Press, 2021)

Pitch Blue

I can't stop—

Wading into a lake—

Skipping one flat stone after another across the surface of a pond—

In a sarcophagus,
lapis inlaid along the eyelids of a death mask—

Wool oxidizing when pulled out of the dye bath—

Like a deserted village with men approaching on horseback—

The moment before collision—

Never light this match—



From The Glass Constellation: New and Collected Poems
(Copper Canyon Press, 2021)