Seth Jani, Summer 2017

Up the Rungs

Assured that everything broken
Is a requirement for the God
Of Mending’s tinkering concern,
We walk out under the damaged
Eaves of autumn,
No longer afraid of the poisonous rain
Or the toxic catalog
Of all that’s wrong
This cool day
At the end of our belief.
We finally give up
Our calculations,
Our statistical concerns,
And let the apparatus of the body
Touch its darkened charges
To the wind-carved sockets
Of the earth.
Light fray, crackling little stars,
And all of us going up
Like zealots in a flame.




A migrant from the north
I carried all my snows with me,
Down along the valley,
Past the archipelagos of ice,
Even while I turned inwards
To tend those other fires.

Being born up among the birch trees,
In the loneliest corners, by the river’s
Beginning or end, is to be an exile
All your days, a fundamental stranger,
A mirage of otherness
In the familiar light.





Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven Circle Press ( His own work has been published widely in such places as The Coe Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at

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