...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

14. Ends Up at the Rose Parade

Compass on the watch points north.
Watch on the tree branch says no.
Branch by the fountain shivers in rage,
or appears to. Rage arrives after years
of curt refusal. (Explanation has not helped.)
Refusal of explanation is a shell you hear
the sea in. Seas in the eye are collapsed on
by the dome of heaven, located where the pick between
wind-up and soft thud points.
The point where the sea makes
inconstant whoosh. I wish
I completed that which I set out
to complete. We set out before first light
with the scent of coffee,
eggs in tinfoil, I half-asleep,
blanketed in the back of the wagon
my father or mother drove
toward Pasadena. All roads lead
to so much solid as dream.

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