after Sei Shonagon
It breaks my heart to think . . .
crows would not be considered a moving sight
One dead bat a furry peach pit One catbird’s symphonic complaint
Rocks warm from hazy spring sky
Two Campari and sodas orange on the porch Three orioles: one male neon red
Two yellow warblers fly to crabapple
On a pine branch lit by sun’s last rays: two cowbirds One muskrat disturbs lake
One sister leans forward in cool orange light smiling
We dream furiously Empty space seethes with seeds Sensitive to wind ukiyo no kaze—
wind of the world—hardships of the world
One dog howling in the middle of the day Fireflies extinguished by insecticide
One tiger swallowtail lingering on laurel Blue wind descending
the lion mountain at lake’s horizon One year anniversary:
his going out of this house this world
Mark McKain’s work has appeared in The New Republic, Subtropics, Blue Mesa Review, Green Mountains Review, Cimarron Review, and elsewhere. His chapbook Ranging the Moon was published in 2003, and in 2006 he was awarded a Writing Fellowship at Vermont Studio Center. He teaches writing at the University of Central Florida. (updated 10/2009)