Hunting With Masai

by Charles Bane Jr

Dawn is spear and
shield and gun recklessly
left behind. We move in a
single line. Last night
they chased away a
missionary and we lay.
Mine is the god of the Hebrews
I explained, mountain born
like N'gai. He is not desirous
of you and only one
of mine has seen his face.
His mountain had boiled gravely
and he built a vessel of lava
rock for a climber overcome
to voyage fire home.

You Are

by Charles Bane Jr.

You are
messiah, you, reddest
flower and mount of flags; you
galaxy, weather- strewn. This
is the reality I knew
when you were born
and you who abide
in me, bright-pointed
and riveted to underwater
sand or hurrying as
platelet to cause of injury
will find in the fate
of universe and crush
of mass and wave,
a voice and lyre. Sing
of me, who loved
and tethered faith to
your first cry.

At The Observatory

by Charles Bane, Jr.

At the observatory, I can
watch all the water mills
of galaxies. I deny every
injury in me and long to see
not backward but to forward
cliffs. I think the consequence
of you is written into the structures
we cannot know but by candles
in our room. Do you unfurl for
me? No, rather it is starry in your
eyes naturally and I want you
to order all the murdering
unstained from paper histories.
I deny sacredness
not born of your womb,
your hair the thousand
gestures of lovingness that
fall in gravity.