Blue renderings pencil-in the day.
In angles and geometries the tide comes in, the building does not sway.
The physician and the poet begin an essay
on the heart: electricity, Passion play,
resurrection-jolts and horology’s decay
of chimes and ticks: love’s broken sway
of faulty pointing hands. Form evokes: spine on X“ray
haloed silver, white, and gray; pathways soothsay
bee to savage sun“tilted flower. Papier“maché
and marble palaces, lit in gold and paper lanterns: in résumé
the body’s endgame (star-chaosed birth to doomsday),
writ in blood, dug in clay.
Valerie Wohlfeld
Dear Reader,
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