Pure/Pour/A Priori

								
full moon’s rays spill

a skeleton path on water

tell me the spell



you held me under

simpler to undo

than the first split steps

I took towards you.



Wrath and swell

of the silt-black sea

heavy and mute



with the weight

of so much ice melting

returns agency

to me, and ease.



Eyes travel,

trace along the shape

of pure coincidence;



sere white falls hued

through night air,

valuable, and silvers



on the waves.

Shafts of light

unravel, reeling



towards shore: shine

relearns its shadow image

and I relearn more.



I can scarcely scrape

and scratch my eyes

across the moon’s rough



surface. To conjure

this drag and chase down

the fixed spines of time



and the firm arrival

at some great vein

of truth appears



difficult. My own

divinations, though, draw

me down the coast



and raise my eyes high

despite the bone-bright

glance of the naked



skeleton path on the water.



Winner, College Poetry

Creative Writing Contest

2000 winners