For Meteorographers

…for birds at the edge of the sky.
— 
Adonis (Ali Ahmad Said Esber), Song

Not everything unlocks easy as a phone
or a door, or a heart, or a bank vault
and many of us don’t have
bank vaults anyway
but she burgles with a smile or carefully acrobatic
words, I guess;
Note to Manifoldness of Selves:
‘Fine-tune the deviascope and don’t freak.’

I orchestrate the afternoon
so I’m alone in the city
I cook excellent coffee &
burning like a phasmajector
that thingamajig of a feeling
summer drives pump inside you, or your eyes those aviators
could beat Paul Anderson anywhere anytime!

The world never tires of war,
why should you.
Fuck hermits and their wisdom;
I want to be marketed and sold
and never understood
& to love as stones do

when and where you leave them. Stayed
like the hand that picks the words
in letters unwritten & often edited,
deaf to the world as the ruins in the Negev desert;
not a matter of power,
a matter of flower:

when you run out of clocks you will know
Time was the worst husband
& hitchhiking on the sky
the ecstat!cness of flight


for meteorographers

Kandinsky – Grouping