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