POEM

“Out of disunity, out of being torn apart, comes thinking.”
                                                             
                                                                          —Hegel


Here is another one. A grave rage of great
grayish shadows bending in the Light of a
half-opened Universe of the “either-or”
that stands out like diamonds on a muddy
road. The weight of distance is understood
then & now: Love enriches the body.

Thoughts for aficionados of the Morning Ether
coming from out of the misty countenance
of my mind that is escorted by Vocabulary.
Let’s feast on one another’s misery. Most
of us are somewhat conscious of the way
in which piano keys are like eyelashes.

Let us teach the elderly to beware of scammers.
Let us surrender to love that swallows
everything else whole. Summer has arrived!
A blink & I see the window frame shiver
to postpone light that the heartbeat of the air
tranquilizes, or because I asked it to.

I know what the Future holds. I am waiting
for something to shift, to be disemboweled
systematically. It seems like mechanical objects
ache to be torn apart by either time or
clumsy hands or I don’t know. Red seams ripped
from a baseball. No, what I really mean is

that a nervous pang can be felt when thinking
that at any moment the light-bulb could inhale
darkness, or the computer will collapse in on
itself. Pulling pixels out of photographs.
I want my poems to be “autocorrected.”
I still welcome flowers to the world,

though they could tell me a thing or two
about the world, & they always do.
When I take off my glasses & look upon
the moon this night, the waning gibbous moon
becomes a full circle. Imperfect refractions
which perfect imperfect circles. I stand beneath

a spotlight in the Universe’s theater—
the passing sunset was my blush, my hush catches
hold & I cut up the air to see if I can find a
word-pocket hiding somewhere.