Joan Miro
You laughed . . .
At the sign on my door.
This train makes no stop
Come on in then and look at
the traveling space.
And the diversionary creatures
that temper your speed.
You will hear Look at me!
and all the glassy eyes
will flash on and off
It would be hard to know
who issued the cry,
maybe the String Winder
below the blue table
His partner’s not
paying attention either.
I can’t tell you . . .
No matter how many times
I’ve passed by
those seismic waves wearing gloves
— important, considering
their potential for destruction.
But now, oh so calm.
Slender bellows
emitting cellos and their cello sounds.
And all of this to make stars
less awesome
than the travel space between them . . .
where this train
does not stop. |
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