Tuesday, April 20, 2010

neon on jupiter is absorbed into raindrops of helium

nothing here is glazed with rain

after the storm blows by

everything seems brighter

not just color

but a brim of light’s shades

not less in a license plate’s sneaky gleam

fitted to frames of swiftly snapped pictures

altered and unstable and runny

like acetylene on the breeze

or sepia flavored lamplight

littering damage that bruises hues to blooms

as the fetters of smoky disappointment

cling to crumbling leaves

as hurried checks on troubled gutters

miss the richness or vivid tatters of a petal’s last flutter

as the wind’s untried triumphs topple trashcans

and toupées get tossed

we are left with fence posts that glimmer

and streets of glassy resplendence

to live with

while we can

because nothing here is





here is