jayivan

a blind orchestra
paints black noise on black canvas

the islands are all sunk now

this you know—

hardly a thing worth saying
(so obvious)

barely a thing worth knowing
(as a thing impossible to not-know)

still i miss the shores
where the big blue turned a quieter hue

red-eyed
I stand before you
consumed

walk slow heart beat fast
i want you sweat-washed heat-flashed
walk slow unattached

Dance me out til dawn—
sweat-spritzed chests rocking bliss hips—
the horns sing s u n r i s e

Yammer-stammering,
The cocaine brigades don’t dance
no more: they grow fat.

Dance, my city dance.
Reclaim the dark light, bodies
Rock the night in flight.

I cry on trains and
taxis speeding away from
the possible me.

The thing that remains:
a slight reflection painted
on passing landscapes.

Old woman in black,
sitting on sepia steps,
smiles a young girl’s smile.

The silent face stares
back preserved but present,
holding its blue breath.

Tangle of wires drape,
urgent messages of Now
race invisible.