Three Poems by Gerard Sarnat

Marble Mountain Chrysalis

After intertube raspberrying and panning for gold in the Devil’s
Punchbowl; conniptions past lupine scat, elk bones, bobcats and a rattler;
on the twilight trot back to our yurt; my grandson balks, “Coach, does that hurt?”
Rust-winged tarantula wasps dragged a mostly paralyzed namesake home,
kept the spider’s organs ticking so larvae could feast on her fuselage.

BYO Booze

Across the Yalu
from Kim the Third earning his warmongering spurs

— state so poor it imports
eggs while sustaining nuclear arsenals —

President Xi, China’s paramount leader,
imposed new catchphrases of

restraint on Politburo czars:
• Van pools, made-in-Korea watches

• Self-serving breakfast, three dishes/ egg drop soup lunch,
no abalone

or shark fins for dinner
*Members share hotel rooms, bring your toiletries

in last summer’s Louis Vuitton gift bags
to this year’s People’s Congress.

The Golden Dome

slowly sinks into the Pacific. Every time it’s just amazing.

Different weather conditions, different shapes and colors and paces.

Everyone on the beach and strand looks happy, at least more than most folk.

I’m always pleasantly surprised by that apparent fact of nature.

The farther from the water, the less sunset-engaged people appear.

In general, of course. The dog and fast walkers are in their own worlds.

That’s up on the cement. Volleyball players are volleyball players.

That’s closer in. Then the runners and barefooters seem somewhat aware.

That’s often on the dry sand. A few lovers hold hands in the wet sand.

They and the mostly kids still in the water get sucked toward the sun.

The condo’s top floor, our oceanside panaorama’s almost all glass.

Each twilight I try to be one hundred perecent totally aware.

Which is less than when my longtime wife is sort of not concentrating.

Furthest away, most engaged: I’m an exception to the human rule:

Heliotropism is _____1________ Like always!
distance from sea.