Sunday, February 10, 2019
Forecast the Eye
Let us begin, hamstrung, between Captain America and Yossarian
Where madness and resolution chime like a haunted octave...
Let us begin there. Let us tune in the news, the weather, truth,
Falsehood, ambiguity, and The Right Thing.
Here in the possessed center, there is our eye. It is never still.
It must continue to see the hurricane, spinning at the frequency
Of that octave, which is pitch smeared into sight as a storm wall
Flickering on every screen, at once.
We can imagine there is no storm, but the eye is gratified,
Like the mind, by those colored chords, by composing Chaos,
By whistling it right down our restless nerves, into the wind.
Wind with teeth, wind with dreams.
Dreams begin in nonsense and image. So when one horse
Puts it forehead to another, when each breaths the other's steady
Heartbeat and the struggle begins--which do you pull away
For the day's work?
Whom do you hitch to the carousel?
Sharing today with The Sunday Muse (the picture is the Muse's prompt) and Poets United.