Rapprochement

.
Just wondering
if worlds seen from a distance
are really smaller than they are
.
Could it be that when we sleep
the world we leave goes on without us
.
Maybe you remember the old days too
when greenhorns multiplied their joys
and were thoughtless as a new moon
.
Is it possible that, upstairs, everything is seen
through a rose window bright as Venus
or is there nothing to be seen between us
.
Perhaps you needed to spend some years
on an island being tuned
.
You thought I might be
shoveling snow this morning
on the cusp of spring
.
I wanted to ask if maybes still exist
or if tomorrow is so sure a thing
.
So, are you still counting coup
on the enemies of the morning dew
.
Haven’t heard, so I thought I’d tell a new tale
one of thoughts that may never have been played,
thoughts naked as new babes born today
.
Have you noticed something odd?
Nothing ever changes but the color
of the feather in the hat band of god
.
Could I
ask
.
Would you
answer
.
What the
fuck
.
Why the unworn soles of shoes
on the feet of the dancer?
.
When did you say you last caught
glimpses of the ghosts you fought
.
You didn’t say, but I suspect
you’re still stuffed with words,
a cornucopia of clever twists
in our alphabet
.
Possibly it’s a mistake,
but even god is not perfectly awake
.
For what it’s worth breakfast is the best meal of the day—
the sun’s a fresh egg, the clouds white albumin
—ahead? a day with lots of space to stew in
.
Guess I could just jot something
resembling our bridges of contention
with their steel beams and delicate
cables of suspension
.
If it’s not too much to ask
(the paper being so unreliable these days
and television a joke),
how’s the weather?
.
Fine —and your’s?

As fine, I hope
.
.
by Jim Culleny
3/22/13

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