1. In the manner of David Hinton
Jack pine chill shivers through our north window.
Shards of moonlight shimmer a broad trail
on the lake. A light of settling dew dances slowly.
Stars and clouds ebb and flow in a higher dance.
A small fish flits in the light, almost soundless.
Discussing migration, two loons coo at each other.
Our lives pass between bullets and bellowing.
I am done with keening: night passes over us.
2. In the manner of David Young
Red pines sough in the night chill
perplexing the surface of sleep
the moon above our lake
shines a twinkling hedgerow
of unfiltered atoms, silent light
painting a smooth invitation of glow
stars clustered among stray clouds
ebb and flow like early autumn dawns
two loons outside lake-glow
coo to each other about migrating
and the tiny music of a small fish
flipping on the surface of the lake—
far outside the ammo-racket of civil mayhem
and the dis-civil ranting of demagogues
I rise in some quiet hunger outside aliment
moon-glow glides toward us and fades.
3. RFS, alone with Du Fu and un-mannered
Night-chill shivers off moon-lit cholla,
ghost shadows make un-substance of sleep.
A full moon veils heavy doubt behind
cirrus clouds that heighten the firmament
of doubt. Moonlight is noisier than the hope
of a quail-note some future dawn ago.
Beyond the moon a soul-song of coyotes
shines in the specter-glow of cactus spines.
Somewhere in a pre-dawn pond a desert
pupfish ripples the surface with a dorsal fin
in a shine and silence that mutes the sound and fury
of sheriffs and politicians and vigilante thugs.
I stir in a thirst beyond water-lack. Fierce
cactus spines pretend to soften, protect my
wayward drift into ebbing moon-glow.