there are days when every moment

reminds a mirage of an oasis.
the long fingers of the sun
keep leaving marks
like tracks made
by the tiniest bird

they say that people
must have some basis
to bear each day of life-- some
crowded moments of denial,
days of silence with slivers in a heart

that is like the black box on a plane
fallen from the sky
it  keeps the secret
but not the truth

and so it is with memory
stopped at the crossroads
of the ocean and the sky
tending the broken grail,
the altar of truth,
the soul's smallest oasis,
a deep well of unknowable secrets

this is my poem. so in it, i can rewrite  the ending
and make it happy--the moon rising over the
green meadow, where the house is on the hill
overlooking it.  the pond regards the wildflowers
with a fond eye, and the man and woman
lying in the magic bed by the window, caressing,
are also entirely of my invention.

with the utmost pleasure and actual transcendence,
they gaze out on the landscape.  the woman
gets up from the bed; gathers together the front of
her blue silk robe.  the man catches the sash and unties it,
the silk falls down her shoulders like a waterfall, freeing
her arms, her breasts, her waist, and he
pulls her back down beside him on the bed.

but i could just as well have said:  the moon's face
is half-covered with soot.  a cloud of insects hangs
over the sodden meadow. in a house on the hill
a woman sits alone by the window.  she cannot weep--
loss is too deep and too dry for that relief.
a 1980's phone generates all the coming years of sorrow.

on the bedpost a shabby chenille robe is shedding threads.
in the woman's heart an ember of hope flickers
in an eternal sepulcher.  it can't go out.  how the man
has changed her life in one day!  but she will never know
which day or why. and above him the moon is like a severed ear.
his mind is like a cold cave, but there
are deeper chasms in his heart
in which his mind is changed and he returns to her.

oh, the stories i can invent!  oh the myriad endings! oh
the contradictions when i have the characters, but not
the motives and not the ending!  i can fill the pages
one by one with words raining in the meadow. but it is
fate that will complete the story, that will clear away
the detritus of such a dime-novel-romance author.
and it is you who closed the book
and walked away,

happy ending notwithstanding

raindrops fall straight from the trees
october is wet in my hair,
flash flood warnings are in my eyes.

on the balcony, a spider's web
hangs with pearls of rain.
i wish i could say: forgetfulness is bliss

but i am well aware of who is leaving.
the drizzle of october can't extinguish
the overwhelming mist of imminent departure

the diamond needle on the soul's fine groove
picks up circle by circle
an entire lifetime. your brother's backward glance,
your last gaze of goodbye

these are instants of indescribable sorrow
that cleave the heart. fate dissects with
an unavoidable sharp blade on love's operating table.

i cannot make a sound-- i am an empty jade cup
crashing to the marble floor of life
and the shattered chips are crying,
looking helplessly at each other
"such a lot of memory,
spilled..."

under the feckless moon
my heart is a crystal palace
where all my love is hidden

and i hold all happy instants
as eternity.  how long is eternity?
this day, today,
knows
how short eternity is

and how fragile,
how gently it curls in my palm.

let the rain flow past
let years and years flow past
let them flow through my fingers
soul and soul with touching wings

i still hold your hand, a restless bird.
too tight, i fear stifling it; too loose
i fear it might take wing,
only a handful of sorrow will remain.

i fear a palmful of blood
cannot warm my heart's loneliness.

i wonder: if the angels were all massacred
and the rain of comets fell ceaselessly
would there be people to shed tears?

if one day you should pound heavily on the nine gates
would there be spirits to open the door?
who can hold the dragon-wind of fate?

who can rewrite the palm or astrology?
who can rewrite the palm and not rewrite astrology?
you are in my palm, i'm in yours
let the rivers flow backwards
holding eternity in a blink
let the blink of my eyes hold eternity