Every atom sings inside our bodies.
Don’t believe it?
Then let me tell you about
The sun over Saskatchewan,
The way its fire forms
A living weld between
Bone and light,
And how when you hold
Your hands up to it
In a small frame it becomes
The source of paintings,
The place where colors break
From the primal gods of white
And bloom like Sunday irises.
Let me tell you about the richness
That flows towards me out of nothing
And bursts into bright hosannas.
It’s not poetry, but simply
The state of things.
Under our hard understandings,
It’s all as brittle as a shell.
“The Human Shadow Is Quite Big”
Sometimes I think we have come a long way
Not to live to the fullest,
Not to hold the world copiously
In our hands like beads of water.
There are times I want to take the waste
In everyone’s life, and the money,
And build a bonfire, and scream.
On other nights I take my binoculars
Out to the tallest hill in Seattle
And stare at the endless trash
Of the burning cosmos,
The icy remainders of creation.
They say the universe has the smell
Of welded metal,
Eons of junked projects
That could have been another earth,
I reconsider the failure in my own time.
I learn to love what isn’t there.
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 Coe Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, VAYAVYA, Gingerbread House, Gravel and Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.