the ball field

short and sweet
sour and succinct
the need for a car
the want for a body
lofting bottle rockets
at precisely the right time
I remember when we were
that free
when liberation
was a crime
tiny explosions lit
the ball field for a moment
we kicked up such anguished dust
longing for days ahead
longing back at us

Shaktini

she is the one
who turns the Earth
the one
to liberate the world
she is in touch
with herself
like a fawn
knows its own
tender fear
like a net
of inter-related incidents
knows how full
its emptiness
is

fly on the window

my lover
has come
the fly on the window
dark and dense
with tiny, oval wings of clear wax paper
legs, like six, wispy nose hairs
so fragile, this life we share
so tentative, this mortal breath --
coming in
and going out
a kinship
unto death