Seth Jani – four poems

Wren Song

It’s the color of wet madronas.
Tucked under the wing-bone
Like a nestling light.

A plum-sized coin
Carried around in secret.

In the waters of late fall
It is thrown over from
The high branches.

A startling snowfall.
A confettied grace.

Sea Glass

Sometimes the moon of this world
Comes down to incite your dreams.
It’s a fire that knows no limits,
Largening in your head like a rage
Or vision,
Like a small silver thimble
Spilling oceans, magnitudes of light.
It burns off the day as one or two
Dropping tree limbs, shattering misconceptions,
Leaving you a stranger to yourself,
Cradled in sleep.
Sometimes the moon of this world
Is a totem we carry with us,
An assurance that when the time is right
There will be a passage, a conduit home.
Sometimes it is simply a flame
Going wild in your heart, in the sky,
In your hands where it becomes
A million shining vigils,
A trove of weathered glass.


I’m going to disappear
Most likely
Into Autumn,
A convert to the fading leaves,
The falling waters.

It will be somewhere
On a shoreline
While the red light
Hems the sea,

While the world I’ve loved
Buzzes into black,
Some animal circuitry

Shutting down its fight
For colors
In that one late season
When they matter most.

Real Talk for the Brokenhearted

Someone you love choosing to become a stranger
Is the sort of thing you carry with you forever.
People say time will mend the grieving,
But really we just grow distracted,
Find consolation in moments of focus.
To cope we develop a kind of ADD,
So that we can feel anything outside our loss.
But I’m here to tell you
It doesn’t work,
It doesn’t fucking work.

Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress. His own work has been published widely in such places as The Foundling Review, The Devilfish Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at

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