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Sitting on a park bench,
head tilted toward the treetops.
A lone pigeon waiting for lunch,
pecking at my shoe.
I’ve been thinking of radiance lately,
mythical aspirations — with Gods
ducking into my room at night,
pulling back the sheets and quietly
reframing my constitution.
Half-empty coffee cups in my sink at morning
lipstick on the rim — Venus or Aphrodite
why’re you messing with the
way I’m running my life?
Tonight’s bowling night — Maple Lanes
hear me howl. 7–10 split making mockery
of who I am — as Fred & Ginger step lightly
on the TV. Heads turning away — missing
the two pins kissing and falling down.
I’ve been thinking of radiance lately –
The crooning of Pope John Paul,
Pater Noster, qui es in caelis;
The elegance of Martin speaking to my
soul — I have a dream.
