Driven by a Strange Desire

    I. Before Breakfast

    When the sun turns gray and I become tired

    of looking at your many-colored shoes

    I will give you balloons for all the holes

    we speak too much to fill. Who believes

    in air， nowadays？ Or do you prefer tea

    with the dried fruit I will have to throw out

    the window of your room？ Because I want

    this to stop I want this to stop I want this

    II. Towards Moorish Spain

    To kill the dragons is a different thing

    in my family there are only lizards.

    In Sevilla——never famous for its lamps——

    a dissected crocodile hangs from a roof.

    The reptile， the Crown's Byzantine gift. Its teeth

    suspended in the air of the cathedral.

    I stole a pair of shoes； but didn't run far

    from the orchard where water had women's scent.

    Thirst is not fear， thirst is not green， but has wings

    like dragons， or airplanes. As oranges

    in Sevilla， driven by a strange desire

    to stay where they are. Floating. Suspended.

    III. Towards Virgo

    The Milky Way is not only expanding；

    the Bang is not only a Bang. It is drifting

    and being pulled away from， let's say， something.

    Because dark matter is ninety nine of what

    there is and visible matter is so small

    it clusters together and forms a Great Wall.

    China and Spain and my eyes reading the paper.

    We are still together， are we not， wondering if.