Gold Light Everything is in motion. A curtain stays still as the wind blows through windows. The lamp with a rose motif on my night stand is a witness. In my sleep a bug crawled out of my eye, and I was free from its infection henceforward. You stand between me and something terrible. You fix my life by keeping Me from the sea’s cliffs. The edge is a terrible thing. Moonlight lies across it Like a blanket, saying nothing. This nothingness horrifies me. I have been in its locked rooms. The black box of my heart turns to luminous stone. A stone over a cave is rolled off. A garden in the yard of a house shingled By pale yellow, the color of innocent love and insanity, blooms Like springtime in autumn. Lavender, phlox, black-eyed daisies. But why visit? The ghosts aren’t listening to us, anyway. They have moved on. Now, in October, the birds shit on me on the café terrace Of au bon pain nearly every day. I read books about chess, in sunlight The consistency of feathers, thinking that rooks are like hawks, Knights are like sparrows. The sky is a chess board, where all games are conceived. The ground is a good place to sleep, a good place To work up from. Where there is earth, there is sky. The trembling planet is on our side. Deep space, black space, Space where the meanings of tarot spreads are spun, made silver, the black. These nights walk through me, with a luminous gold. The bad things are falling apart, crumbling like walls of sand in waves. The bus ride home is long And I used to savor it. Now, I am working on things, so the bus ride Along Mass Ave is different. I don’t like connecting with strangers, Only with people I know, now. Puzzles of emptiness Empty into mazes of plenty where avenues skirt beauty. Blue alleys and streets spun in pinkest light cascade and make a city. I live here. I am between. I am trembling and terrified. There is a rose And it opens here onto sunshine. The moon eclipses, But has already turned blood-bold. I have turned to blood, too, and I will, A thousand if not a million more times. This is my fate, but I want to grow wings. My parents wonder who I am. (How I came here.) They met at a ski lodge. Snow was falling And grilled cheese was served. They have disappeared, now. Days vanish. The wall is up. The armies of love are moving in a direction towards the hills. I do not know who I am becoming. Take me there.
Posted on: Mon, 21 Oct 2013 23:59:07 +0000
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