eyelid

me
ta
mor
pho
sis
is
com
pres
sion
of
sec
onds
in
to

marble

be
neath
the
eg
o
lay
er
words
weigh
down
on
i
deal

days

my indecision is rooted in
a dusty window in the basement of
the house on richard's lake road

where dust made the pane
each side a separate cosmos
and in between, incarnation

the residue of life clinging to lucidity
letting light pass through
its fossil poetry

making true discarded pots
and a leather bag
as the greens and flowers outside

beneath the sun sill factual concrete
framing the common descent
of each speck into thoughts

truth of beauty in the unknown
grows in me like  an orchid
inside the goldenrod light

finding transcendence
in a '95 ford taurus
is the best i could do

the humble babylon
columbia is no valencia
we're not shakespearean

unfolding maps and
self, i've never cried
so much, either

putting my things back
on a shelf, each like
store-brand soup

after the weekend
sucked our blood, and
buried color from our faces

i feel subterranean.
please leave my
sacred grounds,

it's no cahokia either.
i'm tired of trans
cendence and

road trips. plastic bags
are the most
beautiful thing emptied

of groceries, pneumatic
angels ascending
, logos aside. still,

it's no aether,
but nothing is,
today. i'm in a loop

a clover north of
denver, but it's night
so that doesn't matter.

water trapped
between
chipping paint and
the brick that sides
my apartment building
are those
fingernails scraping
sky blue sky
sky blue sky
sky blue sky sky
for years
for life
while thinking white is beautiful
or something
. downtown,
residual identities
in your eyelids
pollen finding
a lash
invasion of love
into a crown
of blue logic
let's let
let's let
let's let let
lay in grass and
plant dandelions.
and a tear in this case
is just a symptom,
efflorescence seeps
from the thoughts
of cold
and let's and
and let's and
and let's and and
and go on forever like
every blade of
grass, amen