Narrated by Seth Jani
I see strange constructs
In the clouds. Beautiful holes
In the immaculate body.
A purple plane
Disappearing into space.
Old men say their brains die
But their minds are loosed
Like rivers.
I can feel them charging
The air like St. Elmo’s Fire.
All those memories
Darting for the nearest
Break of light.
When the afternoon relaxes
Into the dark, into the name-
Erasing wind,
I count the parasols
Turned-up to collect
The morning.
After all we’ve been through
It’s good to know
There is only transformation.
Lost faces reconfigured
Into rain.
BIO: Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His work has been published widely in places such as The American Poetry Journal, Abyss & Apex, The Chiron Review, The Comstock Review and Oracle Fine Arts Review. His full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.