The Works of Seth Jani
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA, and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has appeared throughout the small press in such places as The Foundling Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.
All Poems © Seth Jani
Today, I sit in the partial darkness
Softly stringing my instrument,
And bowing deep before the music
This is where it all begins;
Silence around my fingers,
The wind, all whispers, in my ears,
The grave internal beat
Is this too where God began?
Not with smoke or fire,
Not with invectives or rage,
But with a slow hum inside
A rustle, like wings arising?
An outcry, like the voice of joy?
And did he form in the metaphor
Of his mouth
That initial booming sound
Which spread its wings
And sailed down the centuries
Breaking here and there
Into the hands of Mozart?
Into Dylan’s bleeding voice?
Into the sad, side-street sax?
The same sound that continues to sail
Right into my room
Where I sit
Piecing it together,
As though by grasping a single star
You could possibly understand
The mystery of light.
Inside me dreams drip and slide like sweat.
A life flourishes and ends on cue.
Such happy animals we are laying out alone
Mid-morning in the fog.
The craven appetite paused for a brief moment
With the sun.
Let’s worship the early crickets praying in the dawn.
Let’s worship the cat’s long stretch against the earth.
I write a poem on the turned cheek of darkness.
I stroke the untroubled bodies of the grass.
The sea is far but its music finds me
For tiny intervals upon the wind.
The universe is large but I reel in my modest
House of bones, in love with the whole damn tapestry
Of gases, and lights, and stars.
Dense, I desire lightness,
Weightless, the weight of the world,
Bent by my longing for wings,
I forget my ability to walk.
Seeing the sadness of a river,
I want the sadness of the sea,
Feeling the earth move beneath me,
I want the stillness of the stars.
In the light of morning, I dream of darkness,
In the dearth of winter, I speak of spring,
Immutable as a shadow on the ocean,
I choose silence, when I should sing.