by bpNichol
bird and
    breaking the clear calm
beaver's head
        over the water
i'm glad to see you
          walking this
held out his hand
        green & foreign land to be
living in troubled times my mind fills quickly
too much to say
      your brown skin and dark eyes
too many friends being hounded to death by
this sickness
      thot we'd raise jerusalem here
ripple this surface with the wind
Copyright © 1990 by the Estate of bpNichol
Used by permission of Eleanor Nichol
This is a cooperative publication of
Chax Press and
Light and Dust Mobile Anthology of Poetry