Absolving The Eye

We drink to the night.
To tradition. To the lake's
tinsel. To the goose bumps
crawling across our skin.
To the palest moon
I have ever seen.
To nostalgia.
To the tapering of trees.
To the hand's eye.
To the constellations
which fling themselves out
across the earth's ceiling
like a suspended dream.
To the lakeside.
To the water's edge
lapping the shore.
To your wet, wet mouth
covering mine.

~prev. published in 3rd Muse~


All Is Clear

To have felt from the center of oneself
a vital truth
as madmen must, each solitary moment,
large or small, imbued with importance,
to have felt the soul pounding
against the self and not a glory care
in the world except for the sound of its
tranquil knocking.


I Swear

I can sense everything about you.
You're like a prisoner inside of my
physiological self.

When you smoke, I draw heat
from the center of my chest.

When you sneeze,
my heart stops.

Imagine palms, warm to the touch.
Light in both of my eyes.
Mouths secreting opiate thoughts.

When you look into the daylight,
I taste the sun.

When you move,
I turn to music, the stillness of me


© Lisa Zaran
Bio: She is a poet and essayist living in Arizona. She's authored two collections, "the sometimes girl" (InnerCircle Publishing) and "You Have A Lovely Heart" (Little Poem Press). Some recent places where her work can either be found or is upcoming include: 2River, Words Dance, Lily, Verse Libre Quarterly, Wicked Alice, Gold Dust Magazine, among others. Contact lzaran@msn.com