{"id":2899,"date":"2017-02-20T23:14:19","date_gmt":"2017-02-20T23:14:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=2899"},"modified":"2017-02-20T23:34:43","modified_gmt":"2017-02-20T23:34:43","slug":"seth-jani-winter-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seth-jani-winter-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Seth Jani, Winter 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n

\u00a0Missing Persons<\/strong><\/p>\n

One night in Seattle
\nMy phone went out
\nWalking back from a stranger\u2019s
\nTo my apartment,
\nA dollar in my pocket
\nAnd a pink, expired transfer.<\/p>\n

There was not a single person
\nTo know the contours of my wandering.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hard to be so suddenly disconnected,
\nAlive with the rush of traffic
\nAnd the mulberries under rain.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hard to know the pavement
\nWhile the night birds spin their
\nFinal music.<\/p>\n

I could fade into my own open sadness,
\nWalk these meadows without a name,
\nVanish past the streetlamps and be forgot.<\/p>\n

I could cross a drifting homicide
\nAnd willingly drink of disappearance.<\/p>\n

I could become a missing person.<\/p>\n

I think I belong among the desert biplanes,
\nShips in their dissolving dance
\nBeneath the sea.<\/p>\n

I think my share of life
\nHas an equal stake
\nIn the arms of ruin.<\/p>\n

What I know of the fall
\nOf empires is a hard
\nAnd private thing.<\/p>\n

A matter both of history
\nAnd the heart.<\/p>\n

Smoke Signals<\/strong><\/p>\n

The directness of you disappearing
\nForthwith into the auspices of rain
\nIs a kind of sacrament,
\nA spell and undoing,
\nA tacit movement
\nFrom one bare state to another.
\nLike some magician going up
\nIn smoke,
\nOr the old horizon of the city
\nSuddenly lost in a weather system\u2019s
\nPassing haze
\nYou\u2019re gone with all your charms
\nAnd troubles,
\nVanished into the summer
\nLike one more habitual hour
\nUnhinged from memory
\nInto the cold and passing light<\/p>\n

Stirrings<\/strong><\/p>\n

These days when the grackle
\nMoves her cold music
\nIn the trees
\nThe voice of water stirs
\nIn the brain like feedback
\nFrom another world.
\nI don\u2019t believe in the limits
\nOf biology,
\nThe blood is universal,
\nFrom the deserts of Titan
\nTo unknown palaces,
\nTo shade-ridden people
\nOn distant seas, it sings
\nAnd sloshes in violent harmony.
\nAnd today, with its meridian
\nOf wind and discontent
\nChanting around the hours
\nI partake of the puzzle
\nIn my veins, that codex
\nInscribed inside our bodies
\nStar-forged and full of light.
\nBut also, touched by dark migrant pulses,
\nThose distant tribal dreams<\/p>\n

Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven Circle Press (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has been published widely in such places as
\nThe Coe 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.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0Missing Persons One night in Seattle My phone went out Walking back from a stranger\u2019s To my apartment, A dollar in my pocket And a pink, expired transfer. There was not a single person To know the contours of my wandering. It\u2019s hard to be so suddenly disconnected, Alive with the rush of traffic And […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2899","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nSeth Jani, Winter 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seth-jani-winter-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Seth Jani, Winter 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"\u00a0Missing Persons One night in Seattle My phone went out Walking back from a stranger\u2019s To my apartment, A dollar in my pocket And a pink, expired transfer. 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