The vagrancy of her iambic and the calculus of rhythm

Midnight

Jack Ollie Might

Swiftly loved her

Near and realized

Fingers had 

Something

To say

Volant across the keys

Bone white and black

Autistic in his recollection

Beethoven’s passages, The Köln

Concert, Amos, Johnnie Johnson

Brubeck, Tchaikovsky

All of that

So nectar

It rouses

The masses

In a narcotic way they 

Can’t stop listening

Dangerously inebriated

They use the good china

”You have always been

my raison d’etre”

While

The moon stays

Sturdy in the sky

Daybreak

Edith Piaf pours our coffee today

In tiny Cobalt cups

We too are torch

In the ally way

We chit chat about 

Frida’s lovers

How we can still hear 

Them remark on Diego’s 

Faintly tinged green skin

And how Alejandro 

Was so dearly loved

Noontide

Laughing into a Merengue rhythm

“Hey Vincenza, your lipstick

Smeared his sheets, tangles

Into his days

You better change the Labyrinth

Of your chamber”

We laugh that Camille Claudel

Got the last laugh 

Locking him into

The stone

Twilight

And how those big men

Cautiously entered the olive groves

More harassed than the angels

While the nightingales 

Screamed against the empty camp

That spring night which

Bloomed saffron and wine

Darkened bit by bit

As dawn approached

You now praise 

Sun through cobalt