Neeli Cherkovski
From the Confucian Odes
Time
there is no end to this road,
it passes the fabled cities
of the mind, if you read
the old odes you’ll never tire
of the time it takes
to never reach a destination
April
put the white flowers
near to the bamboo, move
those annuals
to the side, leave the banana plant
where it is, let it’s
huge green leaves
cover the moist ground
The Traveler
but go in the other direction
lest you forget
the wrinkles of empathy
on the path
to self-immolation,
go without a pause
turn from the map
go south, not north,
go east, not west,
go in the hail
and you will learn
the meaning
go stand by the trees
along a ridge
in the country
where justice proves
difficult and the poor
are only there to serve
Swallow
there will come the shadow
of the bird
and then the bird
will soar
into sight
over the orchards
its heart beating
like rain, its eye
trimmed down
to the patterns
of light and
death, darkness
and desire
Town
the rose
and the rose
are a fire
in the mind
of light
as you descend
blue runway lights
on the empty tarmac
late night
there is
always a
place in town
a blinking
neon ribbon
in an intolerable
empire
Voyager. . .
those who fly in ships
across the Dateline, like
birds, like
angels, like
dinosaurs, like points
of light
and look for solace
in the aisle, and never
sleep again
are they not voyagers?
Heat
the heat rolls in, and it drools
Night
the floodlights
lift Roman ruins
into light
Sleep
the surgeon operates
in the glass box
of a dream
Author's Note
Neeli Cherkovski lives in San Francisco. His most recent book is From the Middle Woods (New Native Press). A retrospective view of his work will appear in "Or" from Otis College of art and Design, L.A. His papers are housed at UC Berkeley, the Bancroft Library.
