So beauty lurks beyond this moving screen,
Something calls us from some other world
To see, as truth, the diamonds in the tar,
The quiet music of the way chairs are,
Sunlight’s textures as it’s caught inside of forms,
Watch heaven overhang the afternoon
And people talk to no one on their phones,
Share flavorless brioches with no mouths,
Tease no eyes with their lips, provide no maps
With excruciatingly exquisite
Specifics, but trail ribbons that are rich
In nothingness, who resound with absence,
Singular squalls lost in city hiss.
A receipt is dropped, and swirls in the wind,
Merges with what moves inside the mind.
These empty figures, they are really in the sky,
And not among this paradise of birds
Who make their philosophie sound so free,
For they speak of sage and Europe, babies
And chlorine with the one that rules it all.
The wind turns the shadows into voices
To compose the unregarded responses.
