Driven by a Strange Desire

    I. Before Breakfast

    When the sun turns gray and I become tired

    of looking at your many-colored shoes

    I will give you balloons for all the holes

    we speak too much to fill. Who believes

    in air， nowadays？ Or do you prefer tea

    with the dried fruit I will have to throw out

    the window of your room？ Because I want

    this to stop I want this to stop I want this

    II. Towards Moorish¹ Spain

    To kill the dragons is a different thing

    in my family there are only lizards².

    In Sevilla——never famous for its lamps——

    a dissected³ crocodile hangs from a roof.

    The reptile⁴， the Crown's Byzantine gift. Its teeth

    suspended in the air of the cathedral.

    I stole a pair of shoes； but didn't run far

    from the orchard⁵ where water had women's scent⁶.

    Thirst is not fear， thirst is not green， but has wings

    like dragons， or airplanes. As oranges

    in Sevilla， driven by a strange desire

    to stay where they are. Floating. Suspended.

    III. Towards Virgo

    The Milky⁷ Way is not only expanding；

    the Bang is not only a Bang. It is drifting

    and being pulled away from， let's say， something.

    Because dark matter is ninety nine of what

    there is and visible matter is so small

    it clusters together and forms a Great Wall.

    China and Spain and my eyes reading the paper.

    We are still together， are we not， wondering if.