Some of us walk away

Nasturtium shadows on the grass
& against a rock (a
STEEL DRUM
arrangement

                    or its mirror image
                                      rippling

All the old mythologies are realized
& dismissed

The stolen fire is in a notebook
I can’t find right now
a dark, rose-tipped lament
in the heart’s house
a pile of rubble at the curb

The Tiki gods whisper a kind of sideways Latin
into my right ear
while my left is tuned to the music of the spheres

(a wind-tunnel banjo played thru a megaphone)

Five o’clock shadows raining down now thru the trees
I thought to roll up my sleeves but the light had been
encrypted & my tattoo didn’t translate