A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
And I Saw. The Lamb opens one of the seven seals and I hear one of the four animals with a thunderous voice cry: Come keep musts to a low hum—padlock the tin shed—keep the lawnmower on off be the first red bird to visit the empty feeder—feel loosened leaf mosaic drying on dying grass blades Draw from dream’s last chambers/ hallways/capillaries—remember thirst’s microscopic awareness how tubular alveoli clear lungs and the ocean more tangible than what we call visible—washes Begin Darken each oval completely Seal your moon-ellipsed paper into secret’s first envelope To be Delivered the fiery black horse whose rider holds the world’s weightless sword of gold Come After the one thousand three hundred and eighty-four nights of destruction—Erase the glass avalanche of lies—Wait for all seals to be opened!
Note: The opening lines (And I saw . . . Come) are from the Book of Revelation 6:1. Gail Langstroth is an international multi-media artist based in Pittsburgh. Her recent poetry collection is firegarden / jardín-de-fuego (Get Fresh, 2020). Copyright 2020 Gail Langstroth