What it was held
up to a patchwork sky
leaning in on
the serpentine coast
darker than that
god you used to pray to
at every
roadside shrine we passed
I decided
that you eyes were
like the pigeons
of the Holy Ghost
roosting upon
the Temple of Ephesus at dawn
or was it the Ventura
pier at sunset?
Either way the
rustling of wings
took me back to
the palm trees of Venice
& the Egyptian
labyrinth of alleyways I trekked
every day on my
way to the beach
It never ends
until it does like breathing
& to
crisscross the furious tropic of dreams
I said Tell me
EVERYTHING but
please be
ambiguous
& the light
fell like dust on the pages of our
sworn testimony as
a warm breeze rolled
thru the fortune
palms
