Morning with a feeling to walk

Limbs churning through air and the traffic so polite

Where the past meets the day’s magnetosphere

a hectic body, growing older and more unknown

            as the mood turns

Trees in the plaza boxing for sky

Something dry and melancholy rustling underfoot

I passed the sunburned outline of a vine against the garden’s pale wall

One bud in the neighbor’s gutter

                      the other reaching as it opened

Who am I to think about philosophy, money?

Reading books in my sweltering private factory

When the color of the hour was really gemstone chiffon

                          swirling in a giant god’s eye

When time coughed me up naked and dazzling

I was hungry for nectarines and heavy cream

Fish heads in broth, sprouted white beans

While up from here, past a cool starry nothingness:

                                 infallible satellites roaming in description

           their chrome rabbit-ears tweaking out human signs