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the sky consuming itself at the obscene end of day at the obstinate windblown unquiet end of this day the glowing hobgoblin clouds eating the plum-stained apron that's all that's left of the day
.
this river brings time from the mountain streams irrigating the farmlands with the minutes and the hours of the dawns and dusks of eternity
sunrise hexagrams start my days even when there is no sunrise to speak of but only the dregs of last year's roses and this gravel road
The poem is based on a consultation of the I Ching which resulted in Hexagram #41 (Decrease) with lines 1 and 4 (from the bottom) changing to become Hexagram #64 (Nearing Completion). The syllable counts of the lines correspond to the numeric values (6, 7, 8, or 9) of the lines of the original hexagrams.
the dismal winter can be a secret delight when the fog settles and an inner warmth rises from the deepest roots to the highest limbs
sunrise from our pearl / district hotel roof / rip city crows cut capers / in the caterwauling wind / the sun coming up / a hail mary shot
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