The blue of day becomes the blue
of night. Low jet planes tracking
their way down, the flame
of a heater inside its glass tube,
genie-like, what would I wish
for? More light, or lightness,
whatever quality it is
that becomes so pronounced
in its absence. That I could
soften this pumice heart,
abrasive, with all its pockets
of emptiness. Another song
of another sparrow. That I
would finally know better.
That a night would stay
a half-lidded eye, the horizon
still furious
with life.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
So glad you’re back. National Poetry Month was making me miss you. Make sure to see (and please participate in) the Invitation I’ve posted on my blog. It’s not a challenge, I swear. 🙂
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This is great.
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What a landscape in this. Almost Dali-esque with the pumice and the blue tones. Beautiful expression.
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I came back to see if I’d missed anything new and saw this poem again. It reminded me a little of one I had just read.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/blue-1
I hope you post some more soon. I miss your voice.
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