Tuesday, 5 May 2015

2 Poem by Seth Jani

Six Questions

If every day the white light burst
From the coded depths of things,

If the sun rose endlessly
On the shorn horizon,

If the darkness never came,

Would we finally declare
Our verdict’s useless?

Toss our armaments
Into the flame?

Begin again the tiny acts
Of living?

Share each particle of bread
Between two or three friends?

Take the shining nectar of simplicity,
Press it to our mouths?

Kiss the sadness until it’s gone?


Coin

Whatever grief settles on the tongue,
Whatever unhappy syllable springs
From the cesspools of the heart,
Whatever splintered light carries
Its wounded hull
Into the unrelenting dusk,
There may still remain a small token
At the bottom of the night,
A symbol carved in ash,
The thought of morning
Beginning to break
Through the darkened
Embassy of trees.


Bionote

Seth Jani is a poet and publisher who lives in Seattle, WA. He is the founder and editor of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com) and his own poems have appeared throughout the small press in places like The Buddhist Poetry Review, Foundling Review, Red River Review and Gutter Eloquence. His full-length collection Questions from the Interior was released in Summer 2014. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.

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