Richard Schwarzenberger

Again

Niger


 

Again

 
ambergris streetlights
eleven pale daffodils
the snails did not eat
 
raccoons maul trash cans
free falling spider catches
a bare persimmon twig
 
my ears place the sound
a wedge of geese going north
leaves flock to the vines
 
the Monterey pine
will bury us in needles
who can stay indoors?
 
it’s happened again
the lilacs bloomed and are gone
before I knew it
 
 
 
 


 

Niger

 
Three men fish from a sliver of boat.
Attention beads at the water line.
A Frenchman sketches, two boys watch,
waiting for the fish to be drawn in.
Is the water alive, sir?
A generator musters lights
On a path-creased hill.
Headdress-blue the sky manufactures
One fish, an iris, one moon.
A too-too calls, calls and calls,
and nothing means much.
Fish jump as if to contest
who’ll take the most
of the alien air.
 
 
 
 


RICHARD SCHWARZENBERGER is the author of four books, including In Faro’s Garden, Hapless Males, and City of Disappearances. His work has appeared in various publications, including The Utne Reader, Agni, The East Bay Monthly, the San Francisco Chronicle.


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