A dream said sunrise, furnace

of the earth’s work,


the spackle dark


calls me to begin, oxygen, violence

of color, clock grid on the wall




dock of the fishermen at dawn

teaches search


or coverage…


my grandfather’s 70 year

old carpet, he paced it

weeknights rehearsing sermons

in solitude



are mine, ornaments,

what has happened

whether it embitters or does not,

whether sight assuages, sieve


of each midstream


Taj Jackson