(Poem for David Bowie)
I
Impossible star
Buttonhole eyes unlock the door
Late last night and night before
Snow fell keeping the shock
Tethered inside.
Hours come and go
Passing themselves off
As a heartbeat leaves a larger heart
On some vast expanse of horizon
Found lost in Central Park.
Walking without direction
Hands clenched in pockets
An inner scream believes
You are warmer elsewhere
Frozen with burning snow.
II
Crossing through SoHo
A rainbow shines respectively
Dripping through the sunny rain
Into a forgotten garden
Cultivated in need of serenity
Beneath the knees
Footprints sink in iced puddles
Wiping away brittle leaves
Taxi horns echo past.
On store front windows
The sun’s reflection asks
what landscape are we
now all the glitter has gone?
The new born bulbs try to answer
Gnawing with an urgency
Like a mother’s sore nipple
Finding an infant’s sweet tongue.
III
Stains follow shadows
Between my pockets and skin
A fixed star explodes
Tracing fragments
The size of lipstick memories.
My cell phone reveals a child with congestion
— nothing serious the doctors say —
A time to cradle comfort as seconds glisten
Into familiar songs and distractions.
All night he dreams basic.
Instinctual like birds pecking ice.
Moments of silence then exploding heaves
Between breaths. I am forced to begin again
To scratch that is.
In a worn worm moon.
Where musty curtains unfold and blow
A shudder of looking glass tears.
IV
Haven’t slept enough of my life away
Reads the confession scrawled on paper.
Stolen hours with spoken interludes
Linger with mushy clouds on hotel ceilings.
The night slips between your thighs.
Out there shoulders rub with velvet lower backs
Daylight displays a reluctance to appear
Stumbling through a chiseled street.
Waiting for the bus to burn
I’m glad you screamed into the end
Dew-damp footprints melt into the realization
Life aches to begin again.
