Thursday, April 13, 2006

That Metal Phoenix Looks a Lot Like Zeus


Your personal phoenix

rises up from the ashes of your favorite illusions;

the metal beating of external wings

our simple craft

takes us up to where the thunder hides

and lightning illuminates nothing --

It’s just more sky.

The reverse of desire:

negative space that repeats endlessly

I am the copy -

the original was lost long ago,

or perhaps it never existed

Reality was a matter of seven little letters

to hide-and-seek behind the nimbus;

prepare the moon for a thin blue morning,

prepare my heart for thumbtacks on corkboard.

You are the mirage

of the shadow of the copy that I am

so together we make quite a nice shimmer

as soft as the day we married.

My personal phoenix

rises up from the prowlings of Zeus;

memory as insuperable as that mountain range of myth and fancy

yes, my wings shudder as we ascend the pallid nothingness

joy, fear, rage, despair, boundless cheer. I look up

seeking answers, and I see it all – finally:

It’s just more sky.