THE TEMPEST
errol miller
Today's tapestry, orderly
flowing backward, time's blue river
the harbor-view, a free brochure, hello
that fascinating source of sweet and simple things
how does your island compare to Aruba
they must speak English there, grow poppies
for their natural beauty, harvest
redfish at twilight, I see Milan's windows
looking out upon, I see plants and animals dead
and dying, I cannot see it all, I cannot tell it all
as I grown sunset sticks to my boney fingers
moss hangs in the living room
bound with artist-rope I cry for guidance
paper with yellow lines, rose-colored glasses
this electronic arcade, this alluvial Delta-madness
soup for supper and then I'll wade
the Jordan one more time, how often I've eluded
Barcelona's litchened promenade
one more vision from the East and I'll
be drinking from a flowing fountain
picturing a dazzling white village in New Mexico
surrounding myself with tall pieces of art
this, then, is treasure hunting
behind the Great Wall of flesh, how many
vague dreams can we carry with us
how many dollars, how many
skinny children begging
for food?
