Eryn Green
Here to spread light on
Joy is what I like,/ That, and love.
--Ted Berrigan
The lights turn the ceiling on
into goldleaf--all of them, makes me
a messenger--each
of these trees is amazing. I see
branches arc lightning, Lionel Messi on tv
and am convinced he will always be perfect--that bravery is
a girl at the bar that could not look brighter. I ignore
only as much as I can handle--no such thing
as more perfect. We don't fall in love
just to cling--we open
all the windows. I had wanted to show you
before--a new lane of music
and walking off into the kitchen after. The sun
is fast laughter--long enough
to watch the windows change
into lingering street bells--meant
never to die--map only and archive
Arcady, the future, etc--brighter than
our mistakes. Like Prospero said
no harm done. No drowning mark
upon my soul. Bicycles just
heavens I hadn't seen--a whole
new planet orbiting. Literally
under orchids
fragrant in the moonlight--that noise
small white petals in the street--one star
orchard
Door The Heart
Big guns again: no speakee
indeed. Moonmoth
and grasshopper still escape our page
while distraction, with its big black dog
the horizon begs--
Because we are upstarts
we are heaven. Because we pass with wings
in the hand. Moonstruck and grass-led
I dreamt all men dropped something
a little like their heart
everyday O their passing
sang
Sedes
String lights strewn across
the underside of a still glass white
wedding tent--that this
isn't easy for me doesn't mean it isn't easy--a seat from which
to enter the world--thin rows of desert
flowers not giving up
red dirt stalks
all grown up
to light. They don't know how to go backwards, don't know
why even try--
............................................................................
As much as you wish
we could bea seat from which
with all the bravery
of Ely or Levi, or any
other angels of my
clear lillynight sky
we can be--I know
how much Hanna and the sea
changed me. The truth is green
things never really die--I
calm down at the sight. I don't
understand protest songs
in the street but know sky blue wool
with my grandmother is beautiful
in Israel--I let go, open up to
tantivy on rooftops, awake
as my name might mean, bent
down branch under tender
everything, so relax--
We go over the cliffs at last