The Shape of Poetry To Come

for Victor Coleman

you are a lazy rooster
you hate to call at dawn

hey hey red rooster

you you red rooster

we know you play the radio
and swing the hen house all night long

*

all the little red roosters

in this and every world

shake loose

the shape of poetry to come

spread the blanket

the wind talks

and the fire flares

stadia flex and crack

sleeping snakes open their mouths

hydra crescendoes

flourishing wet gashes

an organ solo
arcs above the crowd

the shape of poetry to come
elopes with smoke

a cloud spinning
atop a spire

language waving the air

radiant banners

any rhythm sexual

blue sky on the hot city beach

*

they tell me
I am a fool

and if you find me

I explain air on the moon

and during eclipse
mouths gape

*

the shape of poetry to come

falls to variation
and magic

meaning

you are it

and I am safe again

the knowing of nothing and love

and staying safe
ends the play

*

all the little red roosters

in this and every world

love

the shape of poetry to come

the open hand of dawn
and the heart blazing

the last cooling kiss
disappearing with the dew

grateful calling

the blasting face rising

the shape of poetry to come

oily pellets of steam

the fire alarm wire cut

fair warning

no note of danger

air traffic

drowning joy on the breezy pasture

*

you are a lazy rooster
you hate to call at dawn

hey hey red rooster

you you red rooster

we know you play the radio
and swing the hen house all night long

September 11 1996