Let the hours crawl as they did
as a child, watching a spider
webbing air and want into bait.
Pouring imagination into silk
or a velvet tofu of memories.
Leonardo hung a dewdrop on
a loop and peered through it
to paint his Mona Lisa.
He never stopped painting the center
of his universe and ours.
Gandhi spun back and then forth,
solving the puzzle of global warming
long before it flew like a fishing fly
across the professor’s graph.
Sit still, pay attention reminds Emily,
eyes distilling sherry into cognac.
Returning from vacation, I unrolled
a mahogany Guan Yin with curled fingers
coiled up in too many scarves and
her other hand pouring her heart out, my eyes
gilded with too many photos, day and night
flipped, my head swimming in sameness.
Eyes unable to close in the dark,
I feel dust motes land on my nose
or watch them bounce across a heat vent
and gleam a moment across empty space
then join the thick dark felt of the world.
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