Here is another ‘tail-biter’–a species of poem in which the ending rings round and reveals the beginning in a different light. Go back and reread, and it will be a different poem that it was the first time.

These poems are pretty spontaneous; there is definitely no forethought. After making so many, the form and style become internalized and minimally conscious. The intent is to capture and elucidate the space between words and thoughts, where images form before coming to the fore. As a dreamworker, I learned to witness the formation of hypnagogia on the threshold of sleep. I actively sought out experiences of liminal states because I understood them to be where real poetry was to be found. I wanted to visit that world’s temples and libraries. This is an artifact:

8 May 2024

This Page in Green

The lilted-edged and high-lifted leaf

that sang and sang through a clot of grief

appears like a vividly emerald hand,

its fingers splayed in a welcome spanned

by veinwork so tender and so complex

it offers itself as an anti-hex

that swiftly negates the once grievous harm

that sounded its carmine aghast alarm–

and turns it to fluid and limpid green–

that through it you’d see what you’ve just seen.

P.S.: Of course I would say ‘ouroboros,’ but I grew up where lamps are best hidden under bushels!