It doesn’t fall it gathers the doctor explained
That’s just what people named it when I took off
The bandage blinded by the unblocked light
At first I panicked brightness falls from the air
The lens that you were born with flexes but darkens
Film noir betrayals Niagara none can well
Behold with eyes what underneath him lies
The new lens rigid plastic but clear the fog
Condenses to fall as tree-drip to feed the Sequoias
Yosemite they say means killer a Miwok
Word one group called another the European
Militias in the Gold Rush killed all the groups
Ishi in Berkeley was called the Last of his People
It wasn’t one people he was a mix it wasn’t
His name he explained clearly he had no name
With no one to call him by a name Bob says
The way that poetry works is John Muir took
Theodore Roosevelt to behold the Falls
Begotten by eyes Muir inspired by Thoreau
Thoreau read Wordsworth so national parks Gail
Remembers Maisie LeBlanc and Nina DeSantis
Pulled down her pants because they wanted to see
Did Jews have tails Ishi the last of more than
One people in Xuefei’s book a singer in exile
His song of grief for his mother who his country
Forbade him to visit somebody in an essay
Called it a song of love for the Mother Country
As if to punish the singer with bad poetry
Loss gathers and also falls my eyes adjusted
To the glare so I could name the things I saw
A name a shadow’s elegy some more than others
Holy to pronounce the mixes in chains like begats
The great portcullis descending Ishi means
A person the trailer promoting Niagara
Called it a raging torrent of blind emotion