Light Dies in the Eyes

gypsy tune of the evening’s eyelashes
over the lush creeping hills
a black strand of hair on a paper plate
algebraic shadows of solemn trees
bedspring breaths in the trenches
of both fountains of the present
I throw my crayons at the moon
the sky as affectionate as any canvas
a suicide window opens into
the way an empty suitcase looks
and all the rivers desire young lovers
for a chorus to fool around with
a garden of half-erased words
the dogs on the horizon come good-byes
as lightning laughs all down my arm
I am the undercurrent and compass
of the tune blue in the face of absence