Oh, Brooklyn, don’t lie to me.
As rain drips from your steel spires,
I make a mess of things: rewrite de Kooning’s
with Imaginary [Sister].
I never promised
What is here is what’s always been: Abstract
On the bridge, in swatches of lavender,
a heart of sky blooms blue with forget-me-nots.
I’ll look up and you’ll no longer be there:
<i> Au revoir, fantôme de la brume! </i>
after an eruption of all the mountains
of my childhood, sings.
submitted by: dgp