B.J. Buckley

Spatial Data Sets

planet's curvature
visible

cracked shell
of atmosphere

gone lavender
at the horizon

those notches cut
in the perimeter:

moonrise,
starset, the blackbirds

(net?
veil?)

dark points plotted
on the blue

where wind's matrix
intersects us —

dust
its fractal
haze

each particle
either some-
time or

some-
where

everything moves

towards the open
eye

feathercloth

whatever delicate
vortex 

emptiness entwining
its fingers with
emptiness

how necessary
to have

nothing

to hold on to

B.J. Buckley is a Montana poet and writer who has worked in Arts in Schools and Communities programs throughout the West and Midwest for five decades. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Mud Fish, december, Aesthetica, Poeming Pigeon, Hole in the Head Review, and others. Her chapbook, In January, the Geese, won the 35th Anniversary 2021 Comstock Review Poetry Chapbook Prize. She has two books forthcoming in 2024: Flyover Country from Pine Row, and Night Music from Finishing Line Press.