That menagerie of lost appetites
Comes through when the dream arrives.
Those hungers are deep as rain
In the forest’s centrifugal body.
You could drown there without
The black cord of awareness
To let you down. They are voracious,
Swallowing leaves and minnows,
The high-ether flowers
Of the gods’ most cherished gardens.
To be near them is to touch a limited fire.
They are like the multicolored fish
That dart through the nameless waters
On which we float our frail, constricted blooms.
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 Chiron 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.
Foxglove Journal 