Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 16
See How Sky Falls
(evolved from a cento)

Back-lit by afternoon light,
red bird, so red, saturated red
in search in a forest of change. Help me
understand just what we are at night,
I say; night sing, take off our clothes be nude
scavenge for stars for love
with its 23 wings so red,
and its 1000 technologies,
and its dance that spreads line
like a fan winking the rim of time, then pass.
Red bird replies,
See how sky falls, gently
at first . . .

My throat is an open tree, an autumn tree, a tree held
at the hinge of wings, in the wake of wings.
Tree of words, branches long as roads. I speak
as if I know these roads, touching
where it does not lead to war.
But can you love anyone now, I ask myself, then
turn, I turn my face again wondering what dream
transforms the phoenix. I am taken in
by what I take in with my eyes, directly
to the place I know – you know it too – where eyes
wearing only moonlight lie down,
find the burning matter,
body now as altered body
in my mouth a ladder, I follow. . .
Red bird rejoins
See how sky falls gently
at first . . .
then not at all –
don’t mistake your foliage for your fate.

Copyright 2007,  Karen Neuberg

Karen Neuberg‘s poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals. She holds an MFA from the New School and is associate editor of Inertia Magazine. Her chapbook, "Detailed Still", was published by Poets Wear Prada Press in 2009. "See How Sky Falls" originally appeard in panamowa, a new lit order, Vol 1, Issue 2, Summer 2007.

<< Previous      Contents      Next   >>