Sunday, May 28, 2017

Tangled in Wrinkled Air


Beatitudes came near to luminescence
Those days that didn’t add up
Those inexplicable days in your city
Final as harrumph!

I’m trying
I’m trying to sleep
But I keep thinking about you about to say
Love’s wherever I see dogs peanuts and pigeons
Some hilltop city park
Where everyone’s happy for a change

Think of all the things those borrowed shades
Reflected all those eye-strain days
All the summers all too bright
When breathing became impossible

Why not give up those yellow streets
I wonder

April’s gone so’s May now June
Lurches pensively across Mississippi
Lumbering for a color Miró might’ve used
Your eyes a color Miró drew

I’m getting tired of not dreaming 
Winter afternoons in a painting by Bruegel
Instead of scenes from the last
Judgement of Hieronymus Bosch

Remember the nearness of our faces
There on that lumpy couch
Your cyan eyes a shade of mischief
But too hurtfully blurry – O my lost readers! –
Your words rapid and breathy

Remember when we allowed as how
Night’s white asterisks
Would form any goddamn constellation
We drew with our eyes

Ecstasies – what a funny word – came near
When the moon opened
Our minds

God we were fine for a minute or two!
Now I can’t look in my eyes
Without seeing yours

I’ve had enough of Bellini mirrors
Framed in pebble and driftwood
They’re so obvious I don’t care
How large the house they hang in is

Tonight I want to be alone which is why
The river reminds me of nothing

Out there beyond my window
I hear the solitude of trees
Bumping trees

That’s not really being alone is it
Sighs the saw





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