"black cormorant, whirlpool"

by Miriam Sagan

black cormorant, whirlpool
reversing rapids
pulled by tide
Bay of Fundy…
stink of the pulp
and paper plant
a boat
a view from a bridge…
whatever taught me
to see things as they are
not as I wish them:
I’ll call “sensei”

"It still surprises me"

by Miriam Sagan

It still surprises me
on a city street
how no one
crashes in to me, and I
avoid their feet—
cinquefoil on the mountaintop
blooms in its crevices
and a yellow throated green  warbler
sways on a branch

Black Wash

by Miriam Sagan

maybe the watercolor
has smeared
because it is raining outside
and the river
is rising
by the abandoned
hydroelectric dam
which now is just
picturesque

in the cement hut
a table is still set with teacups,
and the window has been perfectly filled
with volcanic stones

black lines on paper
imitate the serpentine
curve of water,
or some part of the body
we prefer to hold on to

the pregnant woman
has set a bit of sheep's vertebra
on a pile of dirt
and hung the whole thing on the wall
with an imaginary painting
of snow and darkness

in the rain, the sheep
take shelter
in old shacks and machinery
when you speak Icelandic
to the ram
his ears perk back and his eyes shine.

Untitled

by Miriam Sagan

out to the west
something burning
pillar of smoke
on the long plains
how can I remember
before this world
started burning
even
an unscorched
Lama Mountain

In the arroyo

by Miriam Sagan

In the arroyo
just one
sneaker

a metallic wind in the garden of marimbas

plastic bags flutter like prayer flags caught on barbed wire

gamelon of the river fills with rain after drought