A Chorus of John Ashberys, in the Form of Cactus, Speak about Love

We were happy enough in our ancient armor,

like churches sunbathing in a rose-colored breeze.

What was holy we could never say out loud

through thorns in our teeth, as we gaily reached for the sun.

True. And yet, clouds would test us sometimes

like softballs thrown in our general pelvic

direction by Jimmy, Lord of the Flies.

Not all the green paint in Hollywood could drive

Lord Jim to look at us and love what he saw.

Which is fine. I’ll just go stand over there

in Death Valley and try to look pretty.

Now come the woodpeckers to drill voids

where we meant to keep our hearts,

sometimes in our sleeves, sometimes in our throats.

Brunhilde! I love you! My shadow grows long

over the mesa, then crosses a line where no ground is,

only open air: the opera of a thousand-foot drop

to the floodplains below. The tears that flow

there, Bruny, can never silence the organ

pipe cactus, its monumental music.

Jeremy Graves is a bestselling co-author of The Mind Illuminated, a book on the intersection of Buddhist meditation and cognitive psychology (Simon & Schuster). His first collection of poems, Hallelujah Junction, is forthcoming (Rebel Satori Press, 2025). He has received grants from U.C. Berkeley and the Community of Writers and was a finalist for the 2024 Saints & Sinners Poetry Prize. A doctoral candidate in clinical psychology, he lives in San Francisco.