We light up between
Earth and Venus

Focus a beam,
Emptied of thinking, outward through shut eyes
On X, your “god” of long ago.

I hobble past. Here’s a window onto a world of moonlit
Cubes and arches in ruins, populated by cats.

I should have worn gloves to the Inauguration Ball, where I
was criticized for my attire—my hair shirt and sandals, helmet
and scabbard.

These are the four directions of the fence: up, down, right,
wrong, black, white, male, female. Nevertheless, at night the
fence points only toward the future, time’s true north.

Across the sea at Alexandria,
Shallow and glittering, a single shroud-
Shaped cloud had stolen, leaving as it paused

Paint blistering on the ceiling of the den:
Excuses gathered speed, helping no one.
So I walked up the same mountain as before.

We are in the painting
without disturbing the painting,

Perfectly composed and colorless,
it mocks what it is not.