It is the violence of noise,
\nthe percussion of a storm,
\nsustained thunder.
\nWhy does the sky look so surreal,
\nso calm,
\nso blue?
\nIt is the thousand wildebeest
\ncrossing the river of their fantasy.
\nIt is the sour beer,
\nand invisible, suspended dirt in the air.
\nIt is the frantic reproduction of lust.<\/p>\n
A luna moth flew bewildered
\nabove their heads.
\nI watched it flutter like a luminescent violin,
\nits wings large as a lotus.
\nIts quiet shattered,
\npressed like a penny on the tracks
\ninto an oblong moon.
\nI remember the percussion of the train.
\nHow low, how haunting,
\nhow musical that weeping!
\nThe moth escaped to the rafters of the stadium.
\nThe wildebeest screamed and mated,
\nignoring crocodiles in the yellow scum
\nof the river.<\/p>\n
Jimmy strummed his guitar,
\nhis legs white as flour,
\nCaribbean igloos on the screen.
\nAre we crazy?
\nJimmy sang words of the boiler factory,
\nthe salvo of battleships,
\nthe crashing of cars.
\nOnly a thought.
\nThe moth landed high in the rafters.
\nA foot from the edge of the sky.
\nGo! I shouted, go! go!
\nA girl laughed.
\nNobody heard.
\nI was yelling to silence,
\nto the still silver of moon drench,
\nthe night pool,
\nthe box of letters asking for love.
\nGo, I pleaded while you have a chance,
\nleave Jimmy alone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It is the violence of noise, the percussion of a storm, sustained thunder. Why does the sky look so surreal, so calm, so blue? It…<\/p>\n