Three Poems
from Vespers
THE GREATEST PHOTO IN AMERICA
is of little death and repeat, of
LED light-shift in the Taurus t-
square stellium, the pull of which
did disrupt that hour of phlox-color
over the couch, the lamps, edging
color wildflower on the heel, the self-
administering mirrors of purple
subulata, immaculata, I mean
my poise to the shade, so vivid
the bones in contort, so vivid
and windowless the scene. Unceded
inner sub-drop room, in-sync
for a change. Look:
the fore- and background remain
beautiful. The in completeness
is there. Meaning, the whole-of-the-record
the crisis and agony; the floret
of water, misting. The glisten of
everyone there, in complete. Along-
side the phrase I require clearer seeing.
PHILIA
Humor as rest as respite in
terms to excite a laugh
convulsively. A defeat of reason
in sub-zero climes, or in our here’s
oh, the many topics to consider
but we’ll riff on the conjoining of care
and play I have read your SOS
In our field, we urge towards
affirming care care care, plus
the body in deliberation, morally so
plus reasoning to & from particulars (i.e
should it matter I’m getting played?). Upshot
being – bit farfetched – that the cold will not
worry us too much, that due to
protectiveness & nurture-dom
to clean the sink is a lightness, as is
the wipe-down of fridge, ignoring the invite
stuck there. Are you coming to play?
For I am so far away. It is cold where I am
It is hot in the photographs that flitter & glitch
It’s such a chaos, a dream-ed role pattern split like grace
So, we tend towards play, or we tend
to our brattish ways, saying
I didn’t do ANYTHING I was told to
We tend towards the taking of care, & I
will divert from the bruise in my life, that
threatens to be apparent when thinking of it
LUDUS
In this early-though-enduring theme, I’ll
say that animals don’t tell their lives
as stories; no rain or blinding wit
no house ablaze, or god in the sky. No, a dog
would add, if you are inefficient at
correcting course, then stay where you are
amid non-production. Some-one will build
you a dungeon in the off-hours
Someone will design the civic ruins
as you gesture to sites of attention:
Devour me here, redeem me, rear me.
Plato points to the firmament, upward
as if commuting air or an idea.
With a punch aforethought, you’ll do the same
You’ll think (to yourself), stay where you are. The future
is mere breathed into existence. You’ll think, yes
I do enjoy jetplay, the tiny eruptions of the garden pool
as it rains rains rains. Paradoxically and posture
-wise, I only escape in one direction.
In this repertoire the mind extends.
∩
Jane Lewty is the author of two poetry collections, In One Form To Find Another (CSU Poetry Center, 2017) and Bravura Cool (1913 Press, 2013). She teaches art history and creative writing in Baltimore.