Grafitti in the Dark

every body has its secrets
	like a sun 
that isn’t where it ought to be

a palm tree is nothing short of revelation
an apostrophe of limbs, a confession 
spray painted on a window--
	matter is the genesis of form

the slow iteration of a Sunday afternoon

the epistemology of traffic lights
is an exodus of meaning
a look without looking
	a parachute
that falls on its face

this body, my body: 
	a machine among stars
a French inhale

the end, a philanthrope
the kind of love-making 
	that tilts pianos

9 responses to “Grafitti in the Dark”

  1. A crescendo of ideas that so beautifully brought us to “… love-making / that tilts pianos” 💖 Actually, I fell off the cliff at “a French inhale” Gorgeous! The idea of “order in chaos” came to mind when I read this poem. ✨

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So so good..I love “a look without looking a parachute that falls on its face”..and “the kind of love-making
    that tilts pianos”..such creative lines that elicit strong emotion. Humans, always capable of living in a way that begs remembrance. Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

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