Jody's Notes
As I look over these late poems, I'm struck (again and again) at how the poem-event of several weeks of writing the poems for Hereafter Landscapes stamped my subsequent poetry writing (although not my other prose--so far as I can see). There are syntactic moves I make now (almost automatically). I'll do this for a while, I think, and then mutate again.
When light dreams of flesh,
when moons splinter in two.
These are the miracles we can now see
once we have eyes.
From afar we watch
each rainbow:
white light coaxed into flower.
These gifts of vision
we pay for in fear:
how we can anticipate the now
that is coming towards us.
We box ourselves in windows
(watch everything from where we hide)
look at how clouds
link the sky into shapes.
When God was tempted by fruit
did he see the pain color would bring?
© 2013 Jody Azzouni