Category: Poetry
Rothko
The World at Present
I can lay mostly exposed
with the wind dancing over top of me
under a threatening sky
I can lay
and watch birds express their fears
watch trees
drunk
and swaying
I lay ignorant
and in indignation of time.
Her weeks, her months, her years.
Orion
there
in the empty space between stars
you have a hero
whose name I forgot
one without substance
without sway
without thought
it slept on the floor
of your hospital room
hammered the clock
and gathered the broom
in the heat of the evening
it will evaporate
it will take its warmth home
to the nothing of space
where it tries not to envy
your love for the sun
and finds itself lost
when the storm is done