My spirit sank. (It ignored
My spirit rising, or it was
The other side, or it sat
In Schrodinger’s box, what does
Your cat do?) My spirit sank.
(Wouldn’t Frank Zappa be surprised?
Because) (perhaps) all the tunes
Would somehow be anesthetized,
And swoopingly deodorized.
What if you were given, well, say,
A hybrid motor and headlights that
Could pierce the black in Mandalay?
Believe me, you are so good-looking
That that chopped-up purple hair
And half-lying on the sofa
And the casual way you swear
Your limbs will leap up from the couch,
You’ll say, “Show me the tropical sun!
Take me to the waterfall
Of Lembeh Island!” I’ll say, “Son,
When you rise, I rise. Together, let us
Search for light in the gecko’s
Golden, slitted eyes. Let us
Go to Spain, to those El Grecos
Gloomy on the walls and open
The skylight to see a Jan Miro
Sky, and then up north to see
The blinding light upon the snow.”
Yaacov David Shulman