Airplanes Make Perfect Mobiles

And when the office was emptied into boxes
all that remained was a first aid kit in the closet.
This time you have come to teach and
the light creature kept silent in her soul
when we have parted therefrom and then
the war was over and all survived even with art.
Art is no comfort but an encyclopedia for the mind.
And at this time we all began to dance
with our hands.
                           And our hands became our
fathers’ and our mothers’ hands and our neighbors’.
And we forgot about ourselves. I wasn’t surprised
when the songs came from the world and every
one did one courteous and we praised the gods
the authors and artists who break blue guitars
and are not responsible for the other interpretation
the other toys that meant birth busy hoping
our eyes gave no expression.
                                             And those of us who
were clever enough or fool enough to forget
those times when we wished someone would
rush us to the hospital above the gargle of the
party the dreams of beds and stalwart love
in the heaven of afternoons. Love is more useful
than machines.
                       Look at our collage, this compulsion
in our bed and the quiet ones began to think
again and again and we all listened to the one
who made us, closely we heard the words
and looked both ways with Janus. A slow sound
station bound trains or maybe just breeze
independent of the breeze. Pick up those
guitar pieces in the room, the light in windows
the useful machine telling truth telling
life ambitious.