stream banked
Pacific Ninebark
thicket

double-toothed leaf of
Vine Maple
yellowed against
the black dirt

False Solomon’s Seal
and Western Yarrow
and Oceanspray

I have an image of
myself
dying here
in this landscape
reaching out
for clarity

raspy Sapsucker’s
call
late evening light

---

Samuel Gilpin is a poet living in Portland, OR, who holds a Ph.D. in English Lit. from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, which explains why he works as a door to door salesman. A Prism Review Poetry Contest winner, he has served as the Poetry Editor of Witness Magazine and Book Review Editor of Interim. A Cleveland State University First Book Award finalist, his work has appeared in various journals and magazines, most recently in The Bombay Gin, Omniverse, and Colorado Review. His chapbook Self-Portraits as a Reddening Sky will be out soon from Cathexis Press.