I would step out of my body
to dream I was concurrent
with the wind and light,
or the painted stones
tossed over the embankment
into the hearts of rivers.
I would grow more frail
than the gossamer knot
holding me together
in a spliff of consciousness.
We suffer in the digestion zone
of higher orders.
We believe ourselves angelic
in the drunk and ramshackle night.
The benevolent seeds cause flowers
to erupt from the dark non grata.
They are not our doing, though they allow
the spectacle of beauty to cross
our eyes.
I was a child wholly in love
with a green world I didn’t know
would perish. I’ve never wept
in the open ruins.
It’s a privilege to be alive
even in the blaze of scarcity,
even in the desperate hunt
for transformation and bread.
Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). Their work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, Ghost City Review, Rust+Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. Their full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. More about them and their work can be found at www.sethjani.com.
