Kata: Bus Stop

Forrest Gander

I love this
hill here        light       the mountain

            hidden like Fuji
in Hokusai’s sketches by a tidal wave
of fog

            which collapses
over habits of
waking up     coffee        standing for the bus
that re-enact themselves

            on every block,

re-enact

            :that bus for the standing,
            coffee,
            waking themselves up to

habits which collapse
                                    on every block
like a tidal wave
of Hokusai’s sketches

Hidden in fog,
                        the mountain
            light here
                        this hill I love

More by Forrest Gander

Eye Against Eye [excerpt]

As if nothing were wrong egrets dip-feed in near shore channels

the human genome reveals chromosomes from parasites

annexed by our DNA long ago

mongrels to the core and tourists

with cameras take the front pews

the enemy blows himself up at Passover dinner

the enemy trembles in a cave starving

the enemy lets go a daisy cutter

a million cubic feet of mud slides down the slope

toward a single bungalow in Laguna Beach

Witness

                     for Jean-Luc Mylayne

Or the vision that holds 

at its razorpoint 

the feathers of a bird 

goes blue. Each sleepless-

ness framed, behind,

by this whine

of insects. So a shutter,

lifted, offers 

to looking

the very oracular

interior of that

openness into which bird 

inserts itself. Its song 

shortening when 

there is wind. Comes

the visible and 

its remainder, a

blur, what? Tittering 

at lower and lower 

luminance. That the 

accompaniment might be

sufficiently responsive.