Algebra of Night: No. 5, Avenue A

We hardly ever see the moon any moreso no wonder

it’s so beautiful when we look up suddenly

and there it is gliding broken-faced over the bridges brilliantly coursing, soft, and a cool wind fans

your hair over your forehead and your memories of Red Grooms’ locomotive landscape

I want some bourbon/you want some oranges/I love the leather

jacket Norman gave meand the corduroy coat David

gave you, it is more mysterious than spring, the El Greco heavens breaking open and then reassembling like lions

in a vast tragic veldt

that is far from our small selves and our temporally united

passions in the cathedral of Januaries

everything is too comprehensible

these are my delicate and caressing poems

I suppose there will be more of those others to come, as in the past

so many!

but for now the moon is revealing itself like a pearl

to my equally naked heart