Sunday, July 24, 2011

Roman Polanski's Morning

They are looney tunes, poetry,
a frame of Picasso's blue period
etched in azure glass and erected
in the lobby of a restaurant, edge-lit,
on a lonely Styrian isle, hedge-light to
Praha-hula-luna abh habna bhuna
nabh alha muhahl una labh lihuni
nihalbh bini bif hanalbh uhahalbhna bihabh
funi dufalfna

black tulip
canary island wanderer
memory loss
a good salad
beneath a spreading tree
and bazouki


preaching daybreak
to the night
and darkness at noon

lemons command the room
their wrinkled yellow eye-lids
a home to simple sugar igloos

snakes which end in thumbs
hold down a crystal disk

restaurant risk
our planktonic social bias
Roman dump