The Scattered World of Poetry
the world lets us delude ourselves with
away from its poetic scatter of transformations
here and there it displaces itself
several billion tons of rock and ice
fell off its mountain in Nepal last week,
a mile down into a river, a fall become a wave
200 meters high racing downriver
like future decades rushing us
without a warning tremor, a head-fake
sweeping away whole villages
blinking out lives of thousands
as though death were a reflex
Some transformations are brutal
Look what winter does to summer whose fall
is life-taking, question-begging
Some transitions are kindly, subtle, timely
we grow old in a flash, distracted, vulnerable
A poem shows us what we missed
in time we would have to make for it
time we would become, have become
The Dog Star 
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