Found in Willow Springs 66
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I may look smooth
shouldered just stepping
from the soak, my planes
flushed pink, angles
ocher, my tresses
oxidizing in reverse,
but take a long hard
look. Take a biopsy.
Interrogate my juices
under your scope &
you'll survive as I have
the sylvan hallelujah
moment, bullion bars
fanning through the showy
oaks & maples & the sweet
sweet gums. When blue is
dominate all over
the earth, atmosphere is king
the air so hammers-on-
strings so perfect it steals the
voices right off
the birds. In the double-dutch
sunlight of American mid-October,
therefore, I may look like a
pearl, but try stopping one,
their cheeks packed with
gold, silver, & blood.
Observe their divots
& dents. Likewise, I
am flawed, with flaking
crusts, molds, blighted bits,
& not a few limbs dead
as a gelding's part.
I know the need to admire
one's cream blushes & metallic
finishes, to take a copper
leaf for your collection
& break the ricochet
silence en plein air with your
sighs. But understand, rainlight
is the truest pearl,
my ugly friend,
with whom I have neither
inhibitions nor differences.
