Supernova

"I threw names
on the wind
the sun spilled open
like sills spilling sand
grains driving in my ear
and I long
for the silence
in the blue sea
careless and punctual
as if hors d'oeuvres might float by
'speak,' spake the mouth of the sky"
and I spoke the word

and you have to imagine
the long canvas
a full venetian sail
watercolor clouds
the pale slate blue and
one white vertical stroke
oil glistening endlessly

the piece complete
furled the sail in favor
of the black sky
and I comforted the night
from the shadows of the afternoon sun
to the last creases of the morning

my eyes open like doors in the sun