Yes, I Would Like to Imagine the Self

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

as a bird or a plane far
from our abhorrent geometries. No

one has a box shaped like
a heart, a tambourine, a set

of bass notes properly equipped
for amplification. Together

we are still a you and an I,
a saint and a landscape

in miniature, a diorama
of dime-store bulls, of feathers

plucked from their birds
like the last note sung

by a hot mic inside of
a hot gymnasium. No.

When I see the sun I feel
no emotion as real as

anything chemical, as if
inside this skyline there is

no synonym for night.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017