Author's Reading (requires RealPlayer)

Here the marsh wears the changing face
of timelessness, Blatant geese
honk at us, warning : "Quick they're
flashing down from the north,
tawny hordes, priests
of late oozings, dribbling fat
onto saffron gowns--
persimmon and quince, pomegranate."

Bewildered, homeless,
trusting as arrows, leaves begin
their blind migrations. The wind flits
through spiky clusters of reeds.
Whole worlds already dead
flare up again in fireplaces,
and cardinals compose a refrain
of memory and joy at danger passing.
From life's ruckled fragments, spiders
weave a story for future generations
(that someone prepares to retell)--
miniature tapestries
cupping wounds and libations of dew.

And we too are building the earth
in sleep, level with the dawn,
tart as apples, fallen, honeywild:
a spectrum of pale gods.

(originally published in Orion, 136 East 64th Street, New York, NY 10021. )