mirror the midnight sun at noon
as in the Palatine Anthology
& the light falls it doesn’t fail you can switch it on & off
I had an idea about bent crystal altho I guess it’s
only the light that bends
as at the Venice pier at dawn & later
down the Speedway up around Pacific & Windward
grinding the curb
Somehow near seems far away
Pick it up & set it down
Times when the light just seems to crumble
& the day gets away from you
whatever you are this time
Take a deep breath & let it go
& then it’s night & the TV’s on it’s
The Tattooed Stranger (RKO, 1950)
In the flickering light I keep reaching for a phantom ashtray
the moon gently tapping at the window
