i am the private eye
of the universe when
the sun goes down
i see dawn rising —
somewhere a wise
old turk is telling
magnificent lies —
somewhere honey
bees are a festival
of flowers by the
sea — a child at
the table is master
and slave — rabbits
on the mountain
possess their own
strange logic — even
breakfast gets the
blues — when young
men quarrel i do not
hear horse and cannon
i hear a squadron of
angels with a jug of
wine laughing by
a crazy meadow —
call me dumb but
two lovers resting
in each other’s arms
are as beautiful to me
as a bearcub snoring
in his cave — steam
shovels hardhats
manhole covers —
plate glass windows
revolving doors —
each grain of sand
is good fortune, each
sees what i see —
the overthrow of tyrants
the fetish of your flesh —
your hand pressed against
mine impresses me like
heaven shaking on the
fourth of july — like a
fire whistle in june —
like the song of a
mosquito in the
month of may —
like a wildfire like
a caterpillar on a leaf
like a skyscraper with
no sky in it — like a
six lane highway
filling up with snow —
like a mountain girl
singing in holy spring