Radium moon,
The cradle of some other darkness
Over everything,
And the night’s wind
Like wild insects
Filling up the mouth.
If what I feel
Isn’t the vortex of illusions
Then I am finally coming
To what is real.
I am breaking down the barricades
Like a migrant fire,
An erupting grace.
I am holding the volcanic heart
Of all our summers
In the one wild meadow
Of an open palm.
Deer-leap, fog-addled mazes,
The forest in the city’s dreaming.
All these pastiches of a fractured life
Floating down like burning pages.
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has been published widely in such places as The Foundling Review, The Devilfish Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at http://www.sethjani.com.
Your One Phone Call 