Before isolate
the wonderful amazement.

Scattered mandalas.

Celestial embrace with faint gray
blue is moved by vermilion
a mauve appears graceful
sublime
accompany the red ball.

The night comes slowly
to make way for a million stars

I huddle in the invisible spot
-

I have written twenty poems
in the air
at night
or on earth
or water.
On your captive forehead.
Twenty useless poems
that do not reach you.
That they are late.
That they are not a bridge.
That come undone
facing fear
of insufficient words
and the belated gestures
and they turn to water
of your water
falling down
for life
without anyone naming them
(name you)
one of these afternoon
when they read
and know about you.