from The Iron Pot
(San Francisco,1995)


Cover art by John Borruso


Into the Lamp

Moth is not a vivid color.
Dust is its element
and its temperature.
Its flight does not mean freedom;
is just an awkward spasm.
And its face
(if you can call it that)
is common.

But what about its gesture -
that jerk of lust
from darkness toward cremation?

The plunge sheds little light,
yields mainly carbon.

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