for JS Makkos

 

spilling watercolors, the orbit of design

pixels a code so fine, it mirrors our nature

and is it survive? is that what the lover coos

under wing, under threadbare nights 

 

delta of where we traveled and what i 

have learned about being safe is who 

arrives to see us, who shows up at the center,

a coring of delight, a lover’s something else, a tinny 

call that verbs the slid escape of blindness

inside the dream of moments: You

 

send a link to an image of Louisiana 

taken by an astronaut, blues wipe into eye-

lets of gulf familiar & we landed here 

gentle folds of image fog, image absent

 

let us consider untranslatable, a bridge, lately

we cut from time, how far can we hide in language

i can say nothing & make it beautiful 

to poet is control, i am never lost if words

 

are not what scrapes belief, the undone spool of mine

i wanted & what is enough, we danced on the dying 

of our land, in the trespass of being human, we danced 

& stole joy in the colored lights as if disease or night’s 

mare had not ridden us exhausted, had i not

 

been able to breathe in the vacuum, i might

have cleared sooner, had i known how far 

i could rise from where i was pinned to cruelty 

i might have flown too fast, a melting occurs in light 

that sorrows love: look at this image

our home, where we stacked moments, so delicate

madness is the instrument of such intelligence 

will we travel far enough to spiral distance  

become what we are meant to be: echoes 

there is no time outside knowing this 

 


 

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