Saturday, June 18, 2011

“There is a fathomless light”

The shattered chrome drainage mirrored on air ripples the mainline stem to float the memory.   Your reflection on the surface of a burnt spoon like the face of Jesus on a tortilla, with redwood stringers glassed in, & diesel sand driven beneath the foam.   We were on the outskirts of an ancient city, like Jerusalem, or Tijuana.   I was there to learn the measure, I said, lighting matches beneath the tidewater architecture & shattered pipes, drizzled in turquoise, in silver, & rust.   Recalling empty parking lots, fjords, & a history of violence, contrary to the haze (my legacy), with mudslide tremors & gaited horses that rustle like palm leaves against the ravished pertinence of so many bronze wings slashing the sky behind you like a kamikaze hood ornament.