Now we sit and play with a tiny toy elephant that travels a taut string. Now we are used and use in turn each other. Our hats unravel and that in itself is tragic. To be lost. To have lost. Verbs like veritable engines pulling the train of thought forward. The hat is over- turned and out comes a rabbit. Out comes a man with a monocle. Out comes a Kaiser. Yikes, it's history, that ceiling comprised of recessed squares, each leg a lifeline, each lie a wife's leg. A pulled velvet cord rings a bell and everyone comes running to watch while a year plummets into the countdown of an open mouth. A loop of razor wire closes around the circumference of a shaken globe of snow. Yellowed newsprint with its watery text, a latticework of shadow thrown onto the clear screen of the prison wall. From a mere idea comes the twine that gives totality its name. What is a theory but a tentacle reaching for a wafer of reason. The inevitable gap tragic. Sure, tragic.
when the pink sliver of sky swims in
through the window and you hear
the high notes from the opera singer
one story below. Angel of wishing,
angel of fortune, the cart overturned,
the small animals from the back
of the truck flooding the highway.
The keys keep making the piano be.
I have only ever wanted the red sky
to turn blue. It’s so beautiful
when it sinks in. Hold me, closeness
says. As long as I have sight, I’ll see.
The walls of time dissolve whenever
the lights are turned off. The lights
that made the day so easy to be with.
I fold myself away. No mirage
of sirens hammering the glass front
of the hospital down the block.
Stars guide the eye across the sky.
It will be like that. Again, and again.