Still from 'One Room in Rome'. 2011
I wake up in San Francisco.
I attained
Escape velocity
From you and your gravity
Your slate roofs
The bee drinks from the flowers in the fields
Liberally
There is only
I lost words
They slipped by and became dreams
And in dreaming, perfect sentences
(to poems that will never be, yet exist).
I asked my own
About a thousand years from now,
and if there’s a heaven for love stories
‘If there’s delight in love’, I said, ‘Tis when I see
that heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.’
Jilynnette said yesterday
her name like Ginger Ale
Gingerelle
our life is measured by streetlight time.
I told her about boulevards and run-on sentences
piazza, urban commas and periods.
I fell asleep reciting
Borges, Cortázar, the Center for the Art of Translation
You are gone at Harvest time
As the grains burst open
With sunshine.
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