From “Noon, Fire, and No Shade”

7:00
A poet resides in a tree, in the pattern of leaves awash
in light. He extends to me a blooming, branch-like arm, almond or plum,
a delicate gift, and with one motion transports me from one bank
to the other. This truly happened. It always does:
I clearly saw what can be seen only fleetingly, just as Blake saw
an angel emerge from a wingless insect. There’s no proof.
Only disappointment and bitter pride — I’ve been chosen,
but I lost the scepter in the mud, and the crown is a rumor
I try to place on my head, each morning anew, careful not to stop
before the ever-alert mirror

11:59
Behind the pages a lizard climbs up the slope,
breaking through the unknown, the beating beating of a dark heart
in a small transparent body, the tiny creature never tires,
the woman nearly buckles under the burden of light.
She has eyes, she has seen many things between dream and dream,
in the newspaper a skiff laden with black refugees has sunk.
She has eyes and heart and she is sister to the lizard, and if she is sister
to one in a peaceful family of reptiles
what does it mean to see and to remain chained to sight