Bird right outside the window
keeps repeating how bobby was really cheap
but there is no bobby in the story, let alone
one who would not pay her way – no way!
– a rhythm now stuck in my head
It’s a brighter color than your song is loud
(peek in on the wire behind the breeze,
I once was startled by sunlight suddenly glanced there
amid triangles of lush land and polished mirrors of blue sky)
All upside down
felled by the rapids, a rush
on foam newly diverted and funneled by tight banks
that now etch these novel swerves that move me along the run to the rise
where the deeper swift water flows from thereon downhill for many miles
through trees over polished stones to a break where a dwarf eddy turns
like a slow screw in the flue of a warm draft, so humid,
mist so moist it clings to the brow just by its passing
These are the largest fronds
I have ever been
under…
Magical figures so real at the edges, beautiful primal greens,
striate lush life throbs photocells, clung-to tightly until relinquished,
solar caresses bestowed by the day
Life is sweet invisible disturbance – indivisible distraction streaked with time
flavored of salted water, the windblown in from the coast
settled upon dusty planks
We spill lime
upon which we dance
Tonight – this moonless night,
hear the waves more than see them!
Hear the water joyously rush shore
but only imagine the warm froth of that joy
as there is not enough light
to illuminate it for you
at this time
But as a sound
it cascades lusciously
to tickle the ear
over and over
(I drift too close to the rock
and am diverted by a chime on a buoy
in the harbor fog)
Chagall 2020
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