Sunday, May 10, 2015

6715. AS DULY NOTED, I READ THE HEAT

AS DULY NOTED, 
I READ THE HEAT
I read the heat even as I am walking past it,
and into it, and through it. Just as if it had
never left  -  so forgotten all those snows and
winds of yesterday's anguish. Now what? Must
I shovel sunlight and melt the pavement with
the torrid rays  -  wavy lines to the horizon
already. All this makes the world an illusion.
It shimmers, wobbles, willies, and waves.
Who can believe a thing? Who can
believe a thing at all?

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