by Mark Kaplon
fluid and floating and nowhere
whirlworlds unroll
warp bowl-like down and pull
stretched fabric to a vacuous intent
— jellylike, babies spill
from the shell, mud-caked
bottoms fracture into cells
and at nightfall stars
like bubbles to the surface arise
eyes crinkle at their edges
edges withdraw from sight
the wrinkles splintering into light
Mark Kaplon teaches literature and Hawaiian culture on the Big Island of Hawai‘i. His poems can be found in dozens of journals, including The Avocet, Canary, Lilliput Review, The Aurorean, and Frogpond among them.
Hawaii Pacific Review 