The Cinder Earth

The shadow of a vulture emblazons the face of the mountain,

intense winds and the noon heat empty vertiginous cliffs,

the sun clairvoyant gathers in aspect like a herald of the mind’s sky.

I counsel myself against doubt as the spiral brightens rising air,

you move, becoming visible where the fractured rock path scatters, 

we ellipse light’s immensity like an arrowpoint pyramids the cinder earth.

The Water Lanterns

The fern river swirls into the hyacinth sky,

you lean from a tree to set a bare foot in the bright stream.

I pour a drinking cup, 

fresh with pomegranates and the black grapes you espalier.

The water lanterns your light without shadow,

the light without sources we sphere in the vessel of sun.