Let me see

if I can understand you as part of the architecture

though it is the architecture of the place

that keeps killing me, dream of sky that stays

perfect blue foam, dream unfurling

gone and fusing like a hand that has fallen

into place.

You are at the pond

and the beach and over the want ads

and then I have the quieter

impulse to paint

beneath envy's carriage

along eternity's mill.

Earth kicking me up in the form of the human,

and taking the meaning

and giving back the meaning

as the photographs do with the life.

Before rheumy eyes

before young strapping eyes.

A mystery you didn't step over

the white painted hot dog stand

dwarf autumn marigold

a gold chain to look, and look away.

To looky here lies your

empty leg, your empty leg of even gin I would give you

for just the hint of I

I essence

I nuance up the flue.

For the rheumy eyes

For the young strapping eyes.

And begin bicycling a side road in the gaping jaws of

sweet anthem that plays

but follows like murder like entropy like lassitude,

a shade, and then a plain, and then a majesty.

Abandoned on the shore

a red towel,

oh my automaton odalisque.

The sun and the wind and the resultant white cloud

then the car gone off in yellow traffic like a "so there"

might we have in conversation,

as in who am I   to write this, who

Who    who is speaking    most whoever-ly,

Who, you are pale

though always

you are social.

As ever,   it is water from a spring

to walk with you