unwavering noon, self-minus
sun flake on the levels of gold
there are names for these things: rose, brick, plate glass
the annunciation of the sparrow
a gene for anxiety
add hope, fear, greed, desire
no rest but the shade
to which a sun implodes
perhaps on other worlds others walk streets
muse on the weather
psyches built, say, on a double sun of unwavering noon
the balm of such congruence
•
thick, white, stick bicyclists painted on the esplanade to Chambers
glinting Jersey cars
helicopter blades under a ledge of cloud
alien first descent past the Trade Towers
drifting in on the flyway to LaGuardia
landscape, local, locale: the man-made made man
trying to open to something like days' unraveling waves
•
blue pulled toward fire out toward the skyscraper lights
ancient mausoleums
upheavals from personal terror
dark pier jut into dark water
turquoise, indigo, aqua, lapis; under the molten, under the bruise of night
blood in your lips
as a man I violated the boundary of your mouth
I say this because in the phantasmagoria
I was woman and man
in another story you turn men to stone
though here, out of narrative, poignant at Morton Street against the twilight
•
incomprehensible rain under sun
heap-leached haze-gold fused into evening
water's green-grey dense pliance
shadowed face that bends to the shadows to drink and be salvaged
tiered buildings like vast Titanics
yellow truck-trailer's anonymous corpse conjoined to the numberless
a boy swept from the rocks at the Verrazano stanchion
tomb cold draining past Liberty
it need not cohere but how could it not?
without context, for which all are accountable
this is for you of the future: one was here who is gone, into the eigen levels
Hugh Seidman
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