Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2011 v10n1
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but for us they

not the inner grace of the blind
            but the outer grace of the deaf

                                    divers leap from the cliff edge
                                    that also is for you

the whole body a sign

                                    or jockey on horse
                                                                        the shine

after the quake people crawled from
                                    collapsed houses
            enough to make you cry

                                    hands out of pockets out of gloves

the flaw is the perfection of the template
                                                            maybe everything he knows of women

made to be seen

                        birds know themselves           
                                    shit and feathers
                                                                        but they fly for us

            sound on air
            moth born to die
            incandescent bulb
            our youth
            the earth even  end

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