fiction 

i

 

flooding on the atchafalaya river banks. 

sasparilla, wild wisteria;  

rangoon’s creeper & devil’s trumpet.

half-submerged cypresses 

 

puncture the surface of the new bayou.

who’s to say where a new bayou comes from 

where it goes

 

probably some old voodoo 

back again. saint-saens wrote a new swan.

who’s to say where- - - 

 

sunflash like a knife

the new bayou a slate-grey sheet

made suddenly transparent

 

silverfish. fruit of the delta

swirl & eddy; sublime mandala

of the gathering storm

 

undulating,

 

shimmering,

 

fading to their depths.

 

kingfisher clutches a low-hanging branch.

cattails are a sun-kissed hunter’s blind

but the needle-nose bayonet is sheathed. 

 

ii

 

kingfisher’s head is heavy.

​

gravity is insurmountable;

flight, impossible.

​

too hungry to hunt 

makes the gravity 

of tomorrow’s hunt even greater

 

to become absorbed

in the Sistine ceiling 

is trust that in looking,

in entering the painting-

God’s hand will become warm;

reach out for your’s.

 

have faith in this blue. 

 

tomorrow’s haikus hang,

opulent in the sapphire.

just pick them up like Atalanta’s gold apples

don’t slow down

​

kingfisher never knows

the taste of tomorrow’s fish

​

 

iii

 

the glory of the kingfisher is absolute power submitting absolutely

  repeatedly

to the humiliation of the sea.

 

hover in silence-

a flurry of silver scales 

renders him momentarily blind.

 

his heart wavers;

his eyes blaze to life again- 

 

silverfish gathering 

timid, like cirrus clouds.

he dives.

 

iridescent flume in motion.

 

plunging into the blue like shatter-glass.

a slick of oil coats his feathers

but the taste of the feast is on his tongue.

 

he darts toward a silver flash;

spears the central artery.

wet meat.

 

fish heart dripping in his jaws,

he whirls upward toward the sun.

satisfied again.

 

 

 

iv

 

the blue is vast

& silken like melatonin

or the hudson river school

 

magnolia cups

bloom & collapse 

in waltz time

 

ballgowns that shudder

& whirl at the slightest

invocation of breeze

 

kingfisher’s heart becomes tall & pure

carved by a spinning blade of wind

as the Himalayas melt; patiently.

 

spire in the fume of sighs.

 

v

 

the bayou is a translcent scene,

backlit; given material weight

as the circling film reel is brought to life 

by the projection bulb.

 

let your consciousness amble 

through the scroll of the delta; 

like calligraphy, daytime 

apparates & fades

 

cypresses are an underpainting

of payne’s grey at dawn,

glazed in viridian by golden hour.

 

a swallow’s nest grows bright with charisma then hollow.

 

the bayou is a colorless form, draped

in so many moulting skins of light.

 

kingfisher acknowledges gently the sun diving 

through horizon after horizon.

pressing gently through the aether

toward no soteriological end

 

another day.