Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Night Sky Askew

My bedroom window went berserk: It saw right through me
to the naked ambivalence that was never an issue
but in fact was a laugh I lived and denied too strongly.

Turning to split the scene, I spy a rogue pixel
throw its hat into the party mix; the city of reticent miracles
is never the same. (I ask for nothing less.) The war
on television wants me, I don't know why. I have not yet begun to seep
into a pattern of thought better suited to lunar camouflage.

The coast is as clear as it's going to be. I pursue the worst of it
and have come to rely on phantoms I never knew—
proof that the buddy system has failed us once again.
Fooling myself on foot from here, I'm overrun with chemistry
I don't see a need to thank the stars for; the scope of
my search has outlasted their waste of time.