at first you were like an eastern silver object
but then your vermillion and cinnabar began to show
you became a soft mineral from Egypt
your accents an oxide moya blue glow
some kind of ancient pigment
chalconatronite crystals now grow
beyond a corroded bronze torrent
of lead white or azurite
my perfected blue verditer garment
tailored just right
o look how you’ve changed
Winter of winters, holding on, bearing in fullness the season,
not in vain are we chilled by your beauty—
a stillness ever-counter to reason.
Uniquely ordered, however, and bound to their duty
(beneath the eye’s deliberate vision)
your children, at play, are wise and ever-amusing.
Every morning I wake up and make tea
and mix yogurt and granola into
a bowl and check who has written to me:
mostly junk to delete. I play a few
new albums I got and listen as I
put the kettle back on and start a new
cup of tea. I load the same sites and try,
slowly, to start the projects of the day.
It’s noon when I glance at the clock and sigh.
“Why is there never enough time,” I say
to myself. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow will
be when I begin the morning away
from my desk. I will exercise until
I am awake and leave the caffeine for
the afternoon. I’ll find new ways to fill
the early hours with productive chores.”
Content with my plan, today I ignore.
O ghost kept bottled on a shelf
O spirit pure and clear
Again you’ve engaged in this battle with myself
Wonder you why I never keep you near
Wonder I why I keep you around at all
Perhaps it just comes down to a severe lack of beer
Tell me morals of the pride before the fall
of how everything’s gone to shit
and of the worst crimes against humanity you ever saw
We’ll make believe that we’re full of wit
that we’ve got things under control
and if not we’ll just credit kismet
So let’s gather all the hearts that I stole
Convince ourselves they’re real,
as real as you, as me, as our everlasting soul.