Perihelion: An Online Journal of Poetry and Mayhem
The Santa Cruz Issue


The Foreign Card


Kneeling in New York, he palmed a diamond.
His life would be richer if he bought
a small tornado of war and fun in Manhattan.
Obviously he was French: he cried and kissed
on sidewalks and streets at all hours. He created
rules and elemental spirits, resurrected an empire.
Near the Dead Sea, he explored prophets, wandered
toward certainty and shroud exorcism. Fate grew
in that country like music, Greek relics, and grass.
He was just another guy open to women, trees,
and mountains, an old man for the child he was,
in need of the truth he did not know.