1 New Poem

In Between Stars

Blue light buzz, spectrum shift
of darkened curtains cut a
Borealis blaze through midday cloud,
takes me darkly from running dogs,
dusty persistence of sunlight screams
dripping tap-pipes as river current
stones,

but I take to it: a flick-flutter
of browning wings, false death masks.

You make me move, from wishing to
want, from bald desire to the charm
jam lights of grandee tradition;
how much I look back with piano trills
on handshake nationalism
that once gave us a lifetime’s peace,

that once I thought to be all things

worth the name, medals hanging from
trophy places, all ordered on American boys’
Swedish shelving.

These noise machines, clang-clacking against
boat-swung rope lines, fishing
nets to dredge a through-line for
thinking for ourselves to be made
of, drown it out a bit

with art-sign neon hues, they say:
“no more here, no more there”,

yet, all around.