Sabine Miller


Inside the Prayer Wheel
                for Kathmandu

crickets’ knees to crickets’ ears


hanging from branches at night

pendulums intentions


all rivers
    made of
       that one



lean into it, she says,
having breathed each airless room


rivers carved

bodies round


to the circle of men singing rounds to

Buddha at the Monkey Temple now dust


centripetal and centrifugal,
depending on the recipient

Card from Russian Hill

Polk Street, San Francisco

golden gates

imperfect body


carry a broken
life, a briefcase, organic


the sea
came to

the bay
tamed the

the waves


prose for the less inhabiting thoughts;
maybe why I must live in the suburbs.


a stray cricket
with gusto


the homeless man in the stair-

well's one mirror


in the fruit vendor’s fingernails
the undergrowth that sang Oppen

Spring: Ashes

Sabine Miller lives near San Francisco. Her new chapbook, Branch to Finch, is available from Ornithopter Press.
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