Nov. 26

on the 13th floor where they keep the books
fog through filthy glass
clearing to
rain through filthy glass
encaustic view
priapic blastoff
below which
laboratories bunker
chemistry
from the sky
stained above and below
by what we look through
the books I read I mean
the blinds stand to one side
pale straight and yellow

*

darling bold stripe of self-reflection
enduring residue

delicate as a flower
flaked like a fish
flickering like fluorescent tubes
10 years over the shelves
turn on when we move

if here
it would be very still
we'd have to

*

go home
"ola brazil"
dry clothes
at least I'm not a sailor
or slave in Atlantis like John's
"Hello, Edgar Cayce?
Does psychic reader speak Portuguese?"
promise of work takes pressure off

but last night no one recognized me
as
the CIA quadruple agent
terrible unnecessary square
secret torture deported
to next month in Jerusalem

but first someone I suspect suspects me
approaches on a bus
we will warm and moisten each other
apples to apples
thus I predict
on the day of the flood