Divulgence
Like floorboards aglow
Neither dream
Nor memory of tomorrow
Or red, or white
The fuse of all light
That is recounted
Danced
Sung
Some sort of echo
Well then:
How it shows itself, now and then
Rubbing consciousness
An agency, now and when, a mutual
Trust . . .
Ditch civics lesson
Infinity’s cold glow
Urges attention
Paddle from deep water
Glow with softest
Crackles
Of anonomity
(Sic)
No screen protects
The too intrusive
And ignites
deniability
Enticing but vague
Stay! Stay!
Ears shout
Head up
Head slowly down
Rising, descending, a cross-
Ing of Arab sand-land
Was glow but a wink?
[Photograph by Kira Phạm from Pixabay.]
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More from Don Moss: Another Box Of Pictures: Don Moss’s “The Sort”, BEFORE HOPPER: Don Moss’s “We See That The Artist…”, POEM: Don Moss’s “Hawkeye” (for Joel P.)